Unfortunately
by evizyt
Summary: “SHUT THE HELL UP, ASSHOLE!” Because, after seven years, I was a little bit tired. Unfortunately, I shouted this at James Potter in the middle of class. Unfortunately--I seem to use that word a lot in reference to aforementioned archenemy--we had a chat.
1. Chapter of Beginnings

A/N: (edited 10.09.08) Welcome to the errant plot that became my main story. It's Lily/James, the way I would see it happening if we travelled inside of Lily's mind for a year in canon. Read, enjoy, and review!

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_"I love you," I said, feeling the blackness closing in as I leaned my head against his chest. And before I succumbed once more to the bliss of unconsciousness, I thought I heard him reply. _

_"I know," he said. "I just wanted to be sure you knew it, too." _

**Unfortunately**

&

Unfortunately, it is a strange paradox. No one understands why I hate James Potter, but most people agree with me that he is definitely not likeable, and his head deserves a deflating. But people don't understand why we fight, why I absolutely detest me, and why it is absolutely essential to me that he should hate me in turn. That is why I find it very disturbing when he apologizes to me.

Thank the lord, he stopped that extremely disorienting behavior of fifth year, where he set upon me whenever he saw me and practically ordered me to go out with him. Frankly, I almost prefer the bickering, because it's a little easier on the old skin and bones, per say. More to the point, it's what I'm used to—it's not disturbing and upsetting and new. I know how to deal with it.

James Potter, unfortunately, is in all of my classes. He is obnoxious, rude, and a complete and utter brute. He is also, unfortunately, Head Boy to my Head Girl. Last year, it was bearable to have him in this school simply by virtue of the fact that he was only in a few of my classes. I don't know how I've survived this long.

Again, unfortunately (in regard to James Potter, there seems to be no end of using this word) it is not an unusual occurrence to have teachers take us aside and inform us that if we do not stop shouting at each other in class there will be problems. The particular incident I am referring to is Transfiguration, yesterday. We all were required to do a project, and I had researched the transformation of Anamagi. James, who knows altogether to much about everything, heartily disputed one of my points. A pitched battle ensued, and although many people are of the opinion that I lose my temper altogether too frequently, I would like the dispute the point. I become angry often, especially around James, however, it is a rare occurrence when I actually completely lose my temper. I am not often in a rage, and am usually able to back down and avoid a real fight, and keep my head. But something in James Potter brings out the worst in me.

And so, this particular battle climaxed in the extremely unfortunate event of me shouting "SHUT THE HELL UP, ASSHOLE!" Because, after seven years, I was a little bit tired. While everyone was busy looking shellshocked, I excused mysef to the ladies room. Unsuprisingly, although indeed unfortunately (I was dreadfully late to lunch,) Professor McGonagall took us aside after class. James was looking sullen from my earlier outburst, but I was still a bit flushed.

"This must stop," Professor stated, and I arched my neck and looked James straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry that I responded, Professor," I said archly, giving that James Potter glare for glare. "However, I feel that under the circumstances, it was appropriate."

"No," she replied, and I have never heard her sound so extremely firmly opposed against an idea. "Under no more circumstances are you two allowed to fight. You are head boy and girl. I suggest you begin to act as such." And the one point that kept me from tears was the small fact that as she swept off, she said, "and Miss Evans, it is not your response to Mister Potter's provoking that worries me so much as the fact that he seems unperturbed."

And with that, I was left, locked in a glare contest with James Potter, hated archenemy. It was funny, this enmity. We had been friends, coming on the Hogwarts Express. We had laughed together, and eaten so many Sour Patch Wizlets that I thought I might explode. He had teased me and called me carrot top in an endearing way. But somehow, with classes and all, the friendly teasing began to become meaner, and the easy friendship began to dissapear. It was replaced by something slightly disturbing, which was now just sort of a part of my normal life—a deep and passionate loathing. Right just now, it reared its ugly head in my chest, along with a sense of righteous anger—who is he to ruin all my classes.

"This has got to stop," I say flatly, angrily, and he turns, surprised that I'm willingly speaking to him in a tone that hasn't risen several octaves. "This isn't meant to be another confrontation," I amend quickly before he can say anything, and his jaw clicks shut. "But come on," I say, surprised to hear myself continuing calmly. "How many teachers are going to have to take us aside like three year olds and tell us to play nicely?" I ask bitterly, and see him grin ruefully in response. But I wasn't done yet, and a rueful grin wasn't the kind of response I was content with. Taking a deep breath, I spit it out. "I'm sorry for what it is you detest about me," I said, pretending not to notice the brief flicker of shock that flashed across his face before he schooled it to neutrality. "But please, can we just make a sort of peace, an agreement to never speak again?" Then I waited, as he obviously composed his own mental speech.

He began carefully. "I'm sorry for the way I've treated you," he said slowly, tasting the words. They were obviously new to him, as they were to me. "I've been a jerk to you," he continued. "and I will stop. We just…have different opinions." He said, and seeing the look on my face, hurried to finish. "That's not a bad thing," he amended. "But the next time I have a problem with you…I'll just let it go." He stopped, for a moment, and I leaped in.

"Don't silence yourself on my account." I managed to pour out in a rush. "I just don't want to fight anymore." And with that I was turning heel and going, as fast as I could, in the other direction, uncaring of where precisely it was leading me.

I'm pretty sure I heard him add something to my retreating back, something that sounded disturbingly like "and I don't hate you…not at all…" but I ignored that because it was something that I couldn't deal with right now. My hatred of James Potter was one thing in my life that was constant and steady. I wasn't going to let it be disrupted by a simple eventful day in Transfiguration.

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**A/N: hmm? Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm pretty sure I heard him add something to my retreating back, something that sounded disturbingly like "and I don't hate you…not at all…" but I ignored that because it was something that I couldn't deal with right now. My hatred of James Potter was one thing in my life that was constant and steady. I wasn't going to let it be disrupted by a simple eventful day in Transfiguration._

&&&&&&&

**Unfortunately**

James Potter is one huge arrogant git, and always has been. He is because I say so, and obviously I am a good authority on this matter. So, the fact that he willingly SURRENDERED and apologized to me is baffling. No, not just baffling…it's…incomprehensible. 

So, I told Dan, my best friend. I could barely down my apple and peanut butter, I was so shocked. He laughed and called me innocent, so I moved on. 

I moaned to Rachel, my other best friend. She giggled and proceeded to tell me about her boyfriend. 

I laughed with Isabelle, a close friend. She sympathized, but really didn't understand. Unfortunately, no one really understands the relationship between me and Potter. 

I wrote a letter to my mother, to tell her the news. As my closest confidante, she is the one who nurses me through all these Potter crises. Goodness knows we have far too many of them. She thought it was hilarious, and at least was supportive of my with the fact that now maybe we won't fight anymore. Because, honestly, it is so tiresome to just bicker all of the time. 

I even told Erin, a girl in my dorm who I am not even that close with. She didn't really know what to say, just kind of listened. I think she admires him a little bit, so I immediately put her on the list of people to avoid like the plague for the next couple days. Guess who else is on that list…

Problem was, I felt a little bit guilty. Like it was some private conversation, or something. And then I felt like I was ruining his bad boy image. But that's ridiculous, because he doesn't even have a bad boy image to ruin, and it also wasn't really a private conversation. Well, not exactly. Besides, he shouldn't have said it if he didn't want me to tell people. After all, it's my right to talk to my friends. 

Unfortunately, none of them were able to come up with a grounding, understandable reason as to why he would just go ahead and do that! I mean… we're kind of mortal enemies. Except that they all seemed to think that we were secretely in love…and had just decided to act like third graders and fight instead of being mature about it and shagging like bunnies. Yeah…right… 

And then, of course, I start seeing him ALL the time! Even more than before. It was awful, and incredibly humiliating. I was leaving the girls locker rooms after fetching Isabelle's robe for her, and he was leaving the boys one. Unfortunately, both of us were headed to dinner in the great hall. So we did that kind of awkward dance thing, I stopped to let him go in front of me, but he stopped like he expected me to go first. So we kind of stared at each other—but neither of us spoke, remember, because we agreed to mutually ignore each other—and then he took a step forward at the same time as me, so he stopped, but I did too. 

And so finally, with a loud huff of annoyance for his benefit, I started forward, all the while cringing inwardly at the awkwardness of it all. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, following from a distance. He looked amused, disgusted, haughty, and approachable at the same time. Secretly, I was a little bit jealous. How did he do that? 

Unfortunately for me, and him I guess, that was just the beginning. I saw him in the Great Hall all the time—I swear he suddenly started coming to meals he never had before. I walked past him in empty hallways, and unfortunately saw him at all the Prefect meetings, when Head Boy and Girl had to work together. 

Also, seeing as he is in every single one of my classes, I saw him in all those, too. And then, I have this unfortunate affliction, where I blush at awkward situations. So every single time I saw him, I would turn bright red, glare, and stomp past. 

We had an in-class essay in Potions, a week after the big confrontation thing, and I got there early so I could ask Professor Slughorn useless questions in an attempt to assuage my frazzled nerves. 

Of COURSE he gets there second earliest. I turned maroon to the tips of my already red hair. He grinned arrogantly. I checked my watch… ten minutes. Unfortunately for me, nobody else seemed to have the slightest inclination to come early. Not even the damn teacher. I fidgeted awkwardly, and contemplated picking my nose. He just sat there, looking completely not awkward. 

I found myself looking around the room for something to stare at. Unfortunately, the only thing in the room that was of any interest for staring was…James Potter. 

"Hello," he said obnoxiously, after I accidentally stared him down eye to eye. But he blinked first. HA! I thought irrationally. I looked away, mumbling. Why was he so obnoxious? Why was I even staring at him in the first place? I had just zoned out, he had no right to say 'hello' so meanly. I started to get angry, but had to remind myself we promised not to fight. 

Thankfully, the possibility of an impending fight was completely slaughtered when he yawned, stretched, and then said completely casually, like he was talking to an old friend. 

"So… did you even understand the essay question?" I blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to comprehend 1) his question and 2) why he was speaking to me. 

"Uh, I mean… yeah, his vocab was a little…" 

"No, I mean it just didn't make any sense. It was really vague," he said, running a hand through his hair. 

"Erm, yeah," I agreed. Where was my tongue? Where was my immediate defense of my favorite teacher, Professor Slughorn? 

Instead, I just made some croaking noises in my throat and sounded vaguely like a frog. And unfortunately, aforementioned favorite teacher did not take this queue to enter. No…but Sirius Black did. 

I probably haven't gone on my Sirius Black rant yet, but suffice to say I hate him too. He is one of those wannabe emo punk rocker types who girls fall over for no apparent reason, is just as arrogant and good looking as James, and somehow even more insufferable. Because even though it would have to be dragged out of me by wild horses, James can be…tolerable… sometimes. But only TOLERABLE, and only sometimes. Like when he's apologizing to me. Sirius Black cannot. As long as I live I will hate that kid. 

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" He asked snidely, sharing a smirk with James. SEE WHAT I MEAN? My brain screamed. I settled for a cool;

"No you most certainly are not, Black," and got up, fully intending to wait outside. But I couldn't resist throwing another barb. "And if you were truly James' friend, one of those bandits or whatever you call yourself (insert sniff here) you would know that we mutually agreed to ignore the other. Consequently, you couldn't be interrupting anything except silence, the pleasant silence of a classroom without your delightful presence." 

As I walked out, head held high, I could swear I heard James making a hissing noise, as if to say "oooh…hard luck," and Sirius saying something like "better me than you mate, eh?" 

Honestly…boys… I sniffed again. Where in the world was the Professor? Looking at my watch again, I realized only five minutes had passed, and we still had five until class. Funny…it had seemed like a lifetime. 

**A/N: I might eventually get around to chapter names or something.. I dunno. This is just a little something that's easy to write because it's all based off of personal experience. So, to get back the shameless begging, please review! And thank you SO much to my ONE reviewer. I love you, the true love of an author to someone who appreciates their story.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So…hey… it's been awhile… cowers I am terribly, terribly sorry about the 10 week lapse in updating, school caught up to me, and AP exams sent me running for the bomb shelter. Now, however, I'm on SUMMER VACATION, and if I can get a couple reviews on each chapter, there is a good chance, a very good chance, that updates can happen every day. Just think! These chapters only take me about 2 hours to write, so I could feasibly post more than one a day!**

**So, a brief little note on the story, that you can skip if you're just not interested. I feel it my duty as authoress to warn you that, honestly, I'm not sure at this stage where the story is headed. I want to keep it canon, light, hopefully funny, and in-character, but right now the overall plot is something that is going to be a bit subject to ebb and flow. That said, this is a pretty long chapter, and you may have opinions on whether our loveable bad boy factors in too much or too little. However, I thought it important to develop some more groundlines for Lily's character, and their relationship, so bear with me even if you don't like it.. The next chapter is written, waiting for reviews, and looking (to me at least) a little better than this one. Mostly, the motivation for this came as I need to post something for my wonderful reviewers, who made my life! But enough rambling, here's the chapter… and REVIEW!!**

_Looking at my watch again, I realized only five minutes had passed, and we still had five until class. Funny…it had seemed like a lifetime._

&

**Unfortunately**

So, the unfortunate thing, when you start unfortunately seeing someone every place under the sun that you go, that usually tends to happen is you have awkward incidents involving staring, blushing, and obnoxious comments. Or, sometimes, you just begin to notice little things about their life. Like, say, their schedule, which is probably the same as yours if you're running into them everywhere, or how tired they are on the day after the Charms essay.

I distinctly heard him whisper to Sirius Black that he was up until three that night. Damn him, arrogant ass, I was up until five thirty, and he didn't even have a single purple bag under his eye to prove it. On the other hand, I drooped like a flower with no water. Or a Lily with no sleep.

This is my excuse, which I am clinging too with every fiber of my being. Other than the fact that seeing James Potter twenty five times a day, not that I'm counting, is enough to drive someone completely insane, mad, and off-the-wall, it is a rational reason and a good explanation for beginning to notice tiny things about him.

Or beginning to be surprised if he doesn't turn up.

I'm starting to realize something, the dawning of which is extremely bad for my health. I am too concerned with a certain James Potter, too passionate about my hatred for him. Because even if it's all hate and loathing, and thoughts of how detestable he is, how much I wish he didn't exist… the fact remains, he's on my mind, too much.

Essentially, basically, ultimately; I can't get him out of my head.

I began trying to switch up my old, admittedly rather monotonous routine in hopes of never having the pleasure of seeing his face again. Maybe I should call him Medusa, as his entire presence seems enough to turn me to stone/make me want to vomit and die.

First, I tried the library. That failed, obviously, because the week I chose the library became the week that Peter failed Herbology and needed to spend every free moment of daylight, and nightlight, in there researching and (shocker) actually working. Naturally, unfortunately, obviously, the rest of that motorcycle gang they call "the Marauders," took it upon their martyr selves to come along.

They also decided to shoulder the burden of being as rambunctious, rowdy, and drawing as much attention as physically possible (and believe me when I say they've pushed even this limit before) to themselves. They were utterly and completely intolerable, and made the library absolutely impossible to work in, which is a feat within itself. But what can you expect? _Men_.

I decided the other day, well more like several weeks ago… I have no idea why I use that expression, when it is effectively a lie. James asked me about it once, in some random conversation we had. Unfortunately, we have a lot of random conversations, usually very awkward, like the one after Transfiguration. But back to my digression, he asked me why I used it, and I was stumped.

"Well, I mean, I think it happened on like Tuesday of last week," I muttered, surprised that he would question the phrasing.

"But that's not the other day, is it?" He persisted. "That's 'the other week,' if you still want to be general, and 'last week,' if you want to specify."

"Yes," I said haughtily, "but it wasn't today, so technically, it was the 'other' day, any other day, any day but today."

"So? It's not like you could feasibly use it for something that happened last year," he countered obnoxiously, and it deteriorated rather quickly from there.

Unfortunately, most conversations between James Potter and me tend to do that. That's not to say that they all turn in to shouting matches, but, in general, a heated argument is not unexpected. The fact of the matter is, though, that when he said "we just have different opinions," in his record-breaking apology outside the Transfiguration classroom, he was lying. On all important points, in the arena of politics, education, religion, and sex, we agree.

We fight, apparently, as we have the same opinions on virtually everything, on principle. He doesn't disagree with what I'm saying, no, he disagrees with something else, like the presentation, or the fact that he thinks I'm a know-it-all. I'll correct his grammar, or a badly structured argument. Neither of us likes being attacked by the other, even if it is just on principle, and so things unfortunately tend to head down hill.

So, a few weeks ago, to be exact (because after that heated discussion with James I can no longer use my favorite expression—gleaned from my mother, actually—of 'the other day,') after a long series of letters with my aforementioned mother, I came to make an executive decision. I will not fall in love.

Love is an irrational, uncontrollable feeling of lust, essentially. We dissected it together. Love is lust, which eventually turns to a sort of companionable friendship in the long years of a partnership, or marriage.

I don't want that. I want a career, a house, car, and broomstick of my own, and shallow though it is, I want a fat pile of money to buy me whatever material pleasures I so desire. While money may not buy happiness, it comes pretty damn close!

Although my mother inexplicably strongly advised me to become lesbian, and have secret illicit affairs, like some movie star she is strangely fond of, I personally prefer the route of simply single. There is something calming in complete solace. I will have a small flat somewhere in the middle of a bustling city, and one room will be a library, completely devoted to books. I shall be an old maid, unless I decide to adopt some poor abused Cambodian child and rear them the way I wish I had been.

The dream job is still being worked out, but it's coming. You just need to be patient. It is still in the stage of a soap-bubble of an idea. You must let it hover, not looking at it too closely for fear of it popping. I'm leaning towards Healer or Auror, with the delicious possibility of simply being a muggle novelist floating at the edges.

So, my uninteresting life plan. Romance doesn't factor in. Neither do arrogant, good for nothing, hulking Neanderthals of the likes of James Potter.

Which is why it's such a problem that I can't get him out of my head.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Lookee here! It's another chapter! And so soon... You'll all be pleased to hear that I officially know where this story is going! I wrote the plotline of Potter "incidents," as I call them, and there are about 10, and then there are a few chapters, and then the 'last' chapter-ish is going to be in three parts of one huge monstrosity chapter. If I get some more reviews (oh my ga-ha-hawd, we're already at 10 YIPPEE!!) **

**So enjoy this chapter, the next chapter should be up tomorrow, and REVIEW! I could be persuaded to give you a teaser about the last chapter, mm, maybe? And a HUGE thanks to my reviewers: padfootloose, Confoundment, and e.jameson. YOU MAKE MY LIFE! Enough of my blabbering: **

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**Unfortunately **

_Which is why it's such a problem that I can't get him out of my head._

&

It was, I eventually came to the decision, entirely his fault. He apologized like that on purpose—he had a secret agenda. He knew that if he did something so completely abnormal and out of character, that he would be on my mind.

He also knew (smart guy,) that if he apologized, he was overstepping every boundary, breaking every carefully erected barrier between us that I had labored long and hard to ensure the building of. He knew all of this, damn him, when he apologized.

Unfortunately, the last thing he knew, I'm sure, is that once he had broken this 'system,' that we used to interact, I would have no idea how to deal with him, with his presence, with the influx of emotions that accompanies every though of him. I was so used to playing by the rules, following the exact strictures of the game…for it was an elaborate game, a competition.

While I'm not dumb, I am also not what people may call "socially adept," or "quick." I have a quick wit, sharp tongue, and hot anger. Unfortunately, about the only thing I'm good at _sensing_ in social situations is awkwardness—you could say I have a sixth sense for it. However, because I experience this sensation so often, I feel like even my perception of awkwardness is diminishing, and just becoming the norm, what I can expect when I join a conversation.

But games all have an end, an eventual climax, the final ultimatum. While his apology wasn't yet the final "end of it all," I knew, even with my crippled social skills, that something large was approaching.

So, I began to stop playing with James Potter, and began just plain losing my temper. But, apparently, unfortunately for me, when I broke the rules, he thought he could too. After my admittedly embarrassing shout out in Transfiguration, using the words "shut up," and "asshole," in reference to one James Potter, he went ahead and apologized.

I still can't get over that. Why, why in the world would he admit he was wrong? So I have come to the conclusion—despite, let me add, the annoying buzzing of every single person I know that is "he likes you, he just doesn't know how to show it so he acts like a five year old," because it's just blatantly untrue—that he must have apologized on purpose, to throw me off balance.

Well, fine. It worked. I am confused, tormented, seeing him a million more times than usual, everywhere I like to go, and all of my sarcasm seems to flee in his presence, leaving me gasping like a fish out of water. And so it was that I made an absolute fool out of myself in Herbology.

I had arrived early, as usual, to put on my goggles and gloves, and get ready for an intense day of digging in the dirt. I wasn't particularly excellent at Herbology, and some of the more deathly plants scared me, so I made sure to always arrive early and act extra prepared. It didn't hurt to be a little bit of the teacher's pet when dealing with dangerous magical plants that could ensure you were in the Hospital Wing for the next ten years of your life.

So there I was, the first one there, snapping on my gloves, when of course, unfortunately, in walks James Potter, flanked by his cronies. Professor Avery had just entered, and James was talking with one of his friends in Ravenclaw—Bennett, I think his name was—who also played Quidditch.

Avery, unfortunately, was not exactly "in the know," with the whole Quidditch thing. So as James and Bennet conversed loudly, laughing and jesting about who was going to win the upcoming game, the professor cut in.

"Oh," he said pleasantly, looking at James. "You and Ben play?"

"Yeah," he said hurriedly, eager to turn back to his earlier conversation. "Me and Bennet both play Quidditch." And then, unfortunately, before I could stop myself, before I could even think about it, really, it had slipped out.

"Bennet and I," I corrected, not loudly, but the room was empty enough that he could hear clearly. After all, I had been raised, I had parents! Grammar, and correcting incorrect grammar, _especially_ mistakes like "me and Bennett," was just so normal. Of course, I forgot that I really shouldn't talk to him, seeing as we couldn't really fight anymore, and so we had no idea how to interact. So I was, admittedly, a little surprised, and just a little bit scared by his response.

"What?" He said, quietly, dangerously, turning slowly to face me. His eyes—hazel, I noted absentmindedly—were darkening, with anger, pain, rage? I couldn't read his face. He stared me down, and I knew I was steadily turning red.

"I-I just, well," I stammered, and stuttered, at a complete loss for words. _Why!?_ My brain screamed. _WHY did you do this to yourself!?_ "I mean…" I tried again, but my throat felt clogged, it was as if my brain had jammed, and everything was moving more slowly than normal.

"Did you just correct my grammar?" He asked in the same quiet, dangerous tone, but this time I heard the underlying lacings of shock, arrogance, and insecurity. But for some reason, even with the obvious arrogance in his tone—his presumption that he should never be corrected—I still couldn't bring myself to snap out a witty, sardonic response. Instead, quite the opposite.

"Sorry…" I whispered, feeling completely humiliated. Even Professor Avery was staring at me with something close to incredulity, for how presumptuous had I been acting in correcting his grammar? I realized with a shock that within that action, I had been just as arrogant as James Potter will ever be. I wanted to die.

"Just-Just don't do it again," he muttered angrily, brushing past me. I let him, not even saying a word when I had to step backwards to avoid falling over from his rude almost-shove.

I couldn't believe I had been so crass and completely self-centered. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to skip the rest of class and never see him again.

Unfortunately, skipping the rest of class wasn't an option. And, of course, I ran straight in to one particular nemesis on my way out of the classroom. It was almost like a magnetic attraction, it was such a direct, head-to-head bump. He must have purposely gotten in my way. It wasn't my fault I had been making a beeline for the door. It had obviously been a complete accident.

"Watch it," he growled grumpily, but when recognition overcame his face, his expression immediately changed. Was it more guarded, arrogant, happy? I couldn't tell. "Evans," he said, his voice a mockery of pleasantry, even as he stepped away from me and brushed down his cloak. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Potter," I spoke through gritted teeth, and tried to just turn away and run, somewhere, anywhere away from him. Unfortunately, he wasn't through toying with me like a cat with a mouse. Ah, that's why his expression was so inexplicable. It was that which the hunter bestows upon its prey. I valiantly resisted the urge to cower, and squared my shoulders.

"Really," he was saying. "A simple declaration of your undying love would suffice." I sputtered angrily, but he continued, oblivious. "We could just bypass all the tedious accidentally-on-purpose bumping, and your bad excuses of grammar correction to talk to me…" He flicked imaginary lint of his sleeve, and yawned idly, the perfect picture of bored. I was sure everyone else knew he was faking it, certainly it was obvious to me. Why even bother to put on the act?

"Go boil your head off," I said obnoxiously, resorting to crude insults. "Maybe then it will deflate to normal size." Unfortunately, my insult didn't seem to strike quite the chord I was aiming for, as his cronies and him just laughed.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he gasped. Sirius wiped a fake tear from his eye, and they all dissolved into more laughter.

"You're the stupidest thing I've ever layed eyes upon!" I shouted childishly. But he refused to respond to any of my advances, wouldn't fall back in to the easy routine of fighting we had previously overused. In my head I could see him snapping to attention, responding with his traditional "controlling psycho know-it-all barb." Instead, the real James Potter just continued laughing.

"Oooh, that hurt right here," he said, laying a hand on his heart.

"Good," I snapped, realizing a lost cause when I saw one. I quickly barreled out of the door, making sure to give him an almost-shove equal to the one he had given me earlier.

But unlike me, James Potter wasn't one to take something quietly. He shoved me right back, (a lot harder than I had shoved him, too,) and I tumbled out of the classroom, tripping over my shoelace, their obnoxious laughter ringing in my ears. I had such an unfortunate, awkward existence. Everything happened to me wrong, at the wrong place and the wrong time.

And I really needed to learn to control my big mouth. It was only going to get me in more trouble than I was already in.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey guys! (If anyone still wants to read this after I lied so much about the update schedule.) Seriously, my intentions were pure. I just... went to Florida and then to Russia and then to Alabama. Sorry. I'm back home in Massachusetts now. I will be writing a little more, but school starts on Sunday. So I will work work work! To try and bust out some more of this story. I really have it all planned out now, and some of the last chapters are almost already written! PROMISE! That this will be finishedish soon!! Anyways, please review and stick with me. Tell me if my descriptions are absolutely awful, if my characterization of Lily is slipping, that kind of stuff. If you ask, I can give you a teaser from a big scene: such as the end, the next chapter, or the kiss scenes. So...

**Unfortunately **

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_And I really needed to learn to control my big mouth. It was only going to get me in more trouble than I was already in._

&

Am I too noisy? My resolution is to become a quieter, more self-effacing person. Embrace into myself the peace of nighttime. Be a rock of solidity amongst a sea of uncertainty. Never to change, always to be someone others can rely on.

To be a trustworthy person, who never lies.

To never look so incredibly foolish in front of others that I wish to never see the sun again.

To control my temper (around James Potter.)

To remember that what is said can never be taken back, while something left unsaid can always be rectified.

To take things at face value with a grain of salt. If that makes any sense, that is.

To stand up for myself, but only when necessary.

To BE myself, the me who I am when no one is watching. Do I have a personality when no one is watching? What is it?

I hope that if I randomly and tragically died, I will be remembered for something other than the foolish words that I seem to spout like a teapot on a hot plate. I also hope that people won't mourn. Cremate me, and dance on my grave or something. Do cremated people have a grave? Maybe I should make a will. Hmmm… please give all of my hatred to James Potter, and all of my love to my family and friends. I have nothing else, I am a poor struggling student. Okay, so maybe no will…

Here's one reason I hate James and co. so much: WHY don't they have something better to do with their lives than harass me, someone who doesn't need the harassment anyways? I'm starting to have nightmares about it—the fighting, the barbs, the tripping, all confused with apologies and flame throwers (now that's just wishful thinking…) And now I can't sleep, and so I stay up obsessing over my flaws and making irrational lists of goals I can't keep, and just ultimately make me feel worse about myself.

Argh, before I know it I'll be some screwed up freak, cutting and throwing up because of James Potter. This is what happens when you let someone get in your head so deeply. Too deeply. It upsets your normal life, upsets you, upsets your general perception of the world, of life, of every unfortunate thing!

It's been pretty angst in my life lately. Rachel, unfortunately, recently went psycho—Andrew dumped her, and because she has no sense of feminism, maintaining strength after a break up, etc. she's been moping around, drooping, moaning about how much she loved him and all that. I mean, honestly, we're seventeen here, people. Love is just not possible at this time and age. She wasn't really comforted when I told her it was just a phase, and started ranting about how I wouldn't understand until my own happily-ever-after was cruelly ripped from me.

Unfortunately, I snorted a little bit then. Okay, I'll admit it might have been more like a laughing fit of hysteria. I'm not exactly keen on the idea of a knight in shining armor carrying me off. I am able to take care of myself just fine, thank you very much.

But yeah, so after that unfortunate little episode Rachel and I kept our distance for a little while. It was not the best move, but who is physically able to listen to someone moan for every hour of the day? Don't other people have homework and responsibilities, too? Is it just me who feels compelled to actually _do_ the work that teachers assign? It can get so frustrating. And Mr. Smugpants James Potter doesn't exactly help. He seems to spend all of his time trying to be as irritating as possible, and ending up everywhere (translation: STALKER) I decide to go. I swear, if they find him dead one day I will be whistling innocently and hiding the knife…

So, while Rachel's been dragging, Dan has been obsessing. His latest theme is to talk about how cold hearted I am (yes, he is also sympathetic to The James Team,) how I am practically "not even a person," and finally to focus in on how naïve and innocent I am. The last of which is completely and totally UNTRUE! Just because I choose to act a little bit innocent and don't like to break rules (you never know when a little bit of favor from the teachers will be just what you need in a tight spot!) does not make me naïve. Or innocent! He is most likely more innocent than me—just because _I _don't flaunt my sexual experience…

As for the insults of being cold, and "not even a person," I won't even deem myself to respond to them. It's just another of the numerous attempts of crazy people to get me "together" with James, all because of the stupid little crush James nursed in fifth year. Of all the crazy things. It's not like we're star crossed lovers, destined by the heavens to be together forever. In fact, quite the opposite! We're practically star-crossed enemies.

I just wish he would act a little more like my enemy, instead of being all confusing lately. After the incident outside of Herbology, when he pushed me out into the hall—yes, that lovely incident—he has been almost _nice_ to me, like he feels bad or something. That, of course, makes me feel bad for being mean to him. But why wouldn't I be mean to him. It's so natural, it's normal, it's how I'm supposed to behave around him!

Not anymore, I guess. Unfortunately, my adaptation to the new rules so far has been to become mildly depressed. I'm worried it's going to affect my schoolwork soon. Sometimes the hot anger isn't there anymore, when I reach for it. Sometimes I can't summon it on call. When he talks to me I don't flare up like a struck match. Sometimes, the better times, I just feel kind of blank. Just sort of empty. But once or twice, something else will happen. Something bad. Something unexpected. Something… unfortunate.

There was this one disturbing time, this other time. The first time it happened, really. Nothing big, you know. Nothing to do with James, in my opinion. But then again… Anyways, everything was normal. I had shouted at Sirius for knocking all of my books off the desk and then taking it for himself. I had glared at Peter for taking the last piece of bacon at breakfast. It was nice, a beautiful, simply gorgeous day in early November. It made me want to lie out on the grass and purr like a cat with its ears scratched.

Our Care of Magical Creatures Professor decided to hold our class out on the lawn, in front of his cottage. Today was simply a lecture, pouring over a book with anatomy diagrams and dissections, but the sun was bright, and I was only in a strappy tank top, having taken off my robe to sit on. Professor Kettleburn had chosen our spot cleverly, because a big tree was providing a nice amount of shade. Of course, James was hogging a large amount of it, but I managed to squeeze in a place above him. The lecture was quite long, about 2 hours, so I figured I would stay in the shade and attempt to not get sunburned. One of the downsides of being unfortunately pale.

Unfortunately for me, the sun moves. So did the shade of the tree. Towards James Potter. So, unfortunately, naturally, I was forced to unobtrusively scoot closer to him throughout the lecture. By the end I was practically on top of him, and my shoulders were still in the sun, and I could feel them burning slowly. However, my pride refused to scoot any closer to James, and he wouldn't budge an inch, despite my uncomfortable proximity. I was going to kill him, and Rebecca, the annoying plump girl taking up the rest of the damn shade.

And of course, sitting next to James would be the day my body decides to do weird things and make me feel strange.

First, I thought it was just too much sun, or something, because my whole side next to him started to tingle, almost as if it had fallen asleep, but more painfully. It was like someone was electrocuting me. My head started to feel a little light—I would almost say _woozy_—and the most delicious smell was coming from somewhere, I'm not sure where. My hands started to itch, and I wanted to run them through hair, but not really my hair. I started playing with my hair anyways, but it didn't really help. I wanted to wiggle my toes, and stretch out my legs. My back ached to lean against something, and my stomach was churning with butterflies. I wondered if I was coming down with something, and had almost decided to get up and go to the Hospital Wing, when it happened.

He looked up from his notes, at me, directly at me. His eyes found mine with an almost audible _click_, and they stayed there for a minute. Immediately, everything stopped. The tingling, the wooziness, the itching, the almost-nausea. I stopped breathing, I think my heart may have even stopped beating, and in that instant, something in my chest kind of_ tore_, a little bit. There was no pain, really. Just, suddenly a warm feeling flooded my body, from my eyebrows to my toenails, a flush of heat that didn't make me break out in sweat, exactly. It was different. A sort of contentment, a yellow light and warmth, symbolizing health and healing. My cheeks flushed a little, my stomach clenched, my heart beat hard and I gulped a few quick breaths. It was like a huge flash of clarity, a dawning of something really important. Something was on the tip of my tongue, some word was on the edge of my brain, something hovered just beyond my grasp.

I experienced the intense sensation of reaching, yearning, hoping, for this singular piece of knowledge, this awareness I was sure came hand in hand with this new emotion… new sensation. My eyes filled, a little, and I was sure they looked glassy and unfocused. I felt unfocused, dizzy, happy, and warm but confused. There was that sense of something _else,_ something _missing. _ The overwhelming feeling that I was not alone anymore. Togetherness was the best word I could find. It enveloped me. I felt like something was pouring through my nostrils, mouth, ears, eyes. I was completely overwhelmed, gasping for air, my heart pounding like I had just run a marathon. I think I fainted, then. But not before I saw them.

Sparkles had appeared in the corner of my vision, sparkles, warm, yellow, glowing, and radiating a sense of love.

&

**hmm? **


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Soo, it didn't seem like very many of you liked the last chapter... I only got one review! sobs A couple more would be really nice, hmm? Okaay, well, last chapter Lily went through some brief depression, and then something very important happened!! OOO! Now this chapter, while it may not seem hugely important, and isn't too too long, is actually really important. This is basically the first in a series of "pivotal" chapters where Lily and James begin to change their minds about each other. Or, rather, Lily changes her mind about James, seeing as it is already pretty obvious that he luuuurves her. Next chapter should be fun with some real interaction, and chapter 8 and a half is already written, to be inserted between chapters 8 and 9 and as funny dialogue piece which you should all hopefully enjoy. Comic relief, eh, at it's very best (we hope.) Anyways, enjoy! Chapter 6! Wooaaah!!

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**Unfortunately**

_Sparkles had appeared in the corner of my vision, sparkles, warm, yellow, glowing, and radiating a sense of love._

&

It was late November now, all the leaves had fallen to cover the grounds with pretty colors in preparation for winter snow. We had a brief half-term holiday next week, which I have been looking forward to with an immense amount of relief. For one thing, I have so much work it's unbelievable, and for another, most students I know are going home. Which is excellent, because it means that James and his marauding crew are almost certainly crashing his mansion for the holidays. Yes, I think it's completely ridiculous that distribution of wealth is so unequal that James Potter has a mansion—but that's a topic for a rainy day, really.

Actually, it was a rainy day. Miserably dreary, in fact. I was sitting by the common room fire, extremely glad to snag an armchair really close to it, listening to the glorious bustle of people preparing to leave, for a single, bliss filled week (and then back for exams!) and daydreaming idly.

Unfortunately, the subject of my daydreams (well, more accurately "musings,") lately has been mainly James Potter. What an unfortunate, wretched, overused topic, my brain groaned, even as I began to think over it for the umpteenth time. After that strange day under the tree—from which I received an extremely painful sunburn on my shoulder –my small bout of depression was pretty much cured. In general, I humored myself by thinking of that feeling as simply my depression and loneliness sort of lifting. I started talking to Rachel again, she got back together with Andrew, and Dan briefly ceased to harass me about my numerous character flaws.

Occasionally, though, I remember exactly how I felt. I could still vividly recall the nausea, my pounding heart and aching head, all immediately dispelled by a simple glance from James Potter. It was so utterly impossible to understand. Incomprehensible. I could honestly still say, that, practically three weeks after it had occurred, I still had no idea what actually went down on that day.

I was walking around Hogwarts with a goofy grin on my face, resisting the urge to practically bat my eyelashes at James and make goo-goo eyes at everyone in between. That strange feeling of expansion was ever present in my chest, and I found myself looking over my shoulder for that other…thing. I saw James even more than before, and found myself oddly…hurt?...when he didn't acknowledge my existence. Then again, I never acknowledged his… But once, when I sort of saw him glance at me out of the corner of his eye, I felt oddly victorious. No one likes to be ignored, I suppose, but I don't understand why it never bothered me before.

Unfortunately, James Potter decides to be unique (translation: to copy me, I don't care that imitation is the greatest form of flattery, I would rather be insulted and left in peace!) and not head home for the holidays. Of course, he keeps his unfortunate crew of intellectual rejects with him in this stinking, too-small castle. There really is not enough space for both of us here, proof of this is the fact that I physically, literally, unfortunately, actually ran in to James three times in the first two days of the break, which I spent dashing madly about the castle trying to avoid him and ended up only finding him, along with the rest of his "cronies" and making myself more miserable.

That damned happiness just wouldn't go away. Honestly, I tried as hard as I could to be sour and miserable to James, but it just wouldn't come. It was like someone had stolen all my anger—the hot bubbling lava, the volcano that would once erupt from a glance, or an accidental brush from James Potter, now lay dormant. Even when Sirius and Peter sniggered, or took the last muffin at breakfast, I just let it slide. Well, okay, so I did kind of bite Peter's head off about the muffin, but even that was much nicer than normal. It was more of a sweet "Peter dear, I think you really ought to give me that muffin since it's the last one and you've already had four," rather then the normal "You snotbrained chubby loser, I've only had one muffin and you've stuffed your fat face with five, HAND IT OVER!" I think my sweetness might actually have scared him more than the normal. Maybe I should try that more often… be nice to James or something…

Ew, no, forget I just even thought about that. Being nice to James. What an awful plan that would be. It definitely would not work, and it would just make me look foolish and stupid, which I do enough of already, thanks.

Whew, crisis averted.

If I had any friends at all they would slap me soundly across the face (a good hard backhand) and tell me to shut the hell up about sparkles and golden lights which brought warmth and happy feelings. Then they would make me pee in a cup for a drug test.

Unfortunately, or maybe thankfully, I don't have any friends like that.

I also don't think drugs are a big issue for the wizarding world, right now. You never know, though. As long as Sirius Black doesn't know about them, though, I think we're safe.

I really do need one of those friends. The kind that will slap you when you start to look like a goon and embarrass yourself. So, basically every five minutes should be about right.

It was during the middle of the holiday, and I had decided to gather the few friends still floating around the empty castle and have dinner together. There were only two round wooden tables in the Great Hall, since there weren't enough students crazy enough to stick around to bother with the big tables. So I managed to hunt down seven acquaintances from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, as well as Elena, a sixth year Gryffindor. We tripped down to dinner, chatting animatedly. We all knew each other fairly well, and had enough in common to make for a good dinner conversation, so I found myself looking forward to a nice meal.

Unfortunately, the only other students in the castle, practically, were the Marauders. Naturally, they chose this particular time to dine as well. We commandeered one table, they took the other. Knowing my general dislike of the group, and not being particularly close to any of them (the Marauders are rather insular) my friends and I proceeded to pretty much ignore their table. We were all good friends, and enjoyed jokes and laughter, so it wasn't too hard. After the main course, while we waited for dessert, Elena began to retell a few funny stories of Quidditch games.

"And you remember the one, where Amy was screaming so much that she actually stood up and promptly fell off the bench!" Everyone hooted with laughter—I was already wiping tears by then—and Amy took over.

"I told everyone that Elena pushed me!" She cried delightedly, and everyone roared with laughter again. "Marie told me later she thought I had jumped on purpose, to try and fall in to the middle of the pitch!" As we burst in to another round of hearty laughter, I noticed the Marauders all lean forward and whisper something. Finally, as our laughter tapered off in to knowing smiles and heavy breathing, all the Marauders tipped their heads back in a large bout of false, loud laughter.

"No. Just no," Marie said, shaking her head.

"C'mon guys, let's return fire, 1..2…" I whispered heatedly. They interrupted us with another roar of fake laughter.

"No wayyy," Stella said, shaking her head and drawing out the "y." We all shook are heads, and the rest of them decided not to take my advice and rise to the challenge.

As the girls began to file out, I got up to follow, but I realized something a little disturbing. My first impulse, when they had started laughing, was to kind of laugh at them. They had been clowning around, it had been _funny_. They were tricksters, pranksters, but it hadn't really been that malicious. I had wanted to "return fire," and, essentially…flirt along.

I was shocked, disgusted. Was I losing my touch? Was I suddenly to become a huge squishy squashy doormat that melted when a pretty boy sent a smile her way? Did James send a smile my way? Did I just call James pretty?

Lately, I have been so incredibly confused. What in the world is going on in my poor brain, anyways? Everything in my life is so unfortunate. James Potter. What a complete basket case of unfortunate events. Someone could write a romance novel of "how to _don'ts_," starring us. Everywhere, every time I see him, something bad, something extremely unfortunate, something extremely disruptive and potentially life changing seems to occur. Well, maybe not always life changing. But always extremely plain and unfortunately _annoying._

But why? Why is James Potter such a large factor in my life?

Why does it sometimes seem like my small, self-contained and self-proclaimed world revolves around a single arrogant, annoying seventeen year old boy?

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**hmm? (REVIEW, PLEASE!) **


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Well...lookee here! It's another chapter, posted promptly, wouldn'cha know, and even longer than the last! This is probably my favorite chapter so far, so I hope you enjoy it too! I have the next two written, as well. So look out for another speedy gonzallez update!

Also, guys, I have a huge, shameless favor to ask... Please, please can I have a few reviews? I know people are reading this story, I obsessively check my stats! So, maybe like, four? I got two on the last chapter, which was awesome, thank you guys so much! Anyways, here you go!

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**Unfortunately **

_Why does it sometimes seem like my small, self-contained and self-proclaimed world revolves around a single arrogant, annoying seventeen year old boy?_

&

I swear to Merlin, that question has been haunting me now ever since that incident in the early days of the holidays. Just the fact that a question about _him_ has been haunting me is almost as bad as if _he _was haunting me.

Why do I do this to myself?

Another haunting question. More to the point, why does _he_ (who shall not be named) do this to me? Why do I let him?

I really need to stop asking myself impossible rhetorical questions in my free time. Unfortunately, any time that's not free time is spent doing stuff around the castle. Stuff like lessons, and homework, and the inevitable awkward encounters with James Potter, and maybe an attempt at having a life, and friends, only to be interrupted and disrupted by the unfortunate James Potter…

So, please, someone understand my dilemma! Rachel recently told me she was sick of hearing about James Potter. Her exact words were: "Lily, I'm tired of hearing you ragging and moaning and groaning about James. If you are this obsessed with him, go snog the pants off him like he wants!"

Please. I am obviously not _obsessed_ with James. Not in the least. My world absolutely does not revolve around him, it's just that I've let him get my goat.

What an odd expression. If I actually had a goat, it really wouldn't anger me if James Potter took it. I might actually give it to him, gladly. I'm not much of a fan of goats.

So anyways, since James Potter unfortunately has currently _stolen_ my goat (it was not given freely,) he has become sort of the center of my life right now. Only because of the inarguable fact that he is a huge pest, nothing more. And because when you run in to someone everywhere, and they start to always give you this huge smile and are really polite, it begins to get really hard to hate them. Not that this really correlates at all to why I don't hate James Potter anymore, because I can stay strong and resist things like knee-weakening smiles when I want to, I just don't feel like it right now.

Yes… I don't hate James Potter… (anymore. Or rather, currently.) Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag. Not that there ever really was a cat, or a bag.

How unfortunate. I mean, I'm allowed to not detest his guts, I suppose, just as long as I don't suddenly start wanting to shag him like a rabbit.

Oh, disturbing image.

It feels really odd to say that. _I don't hate James Potter._ For so long I've identified myself with hatred and bitterness directed towards him. I guess, I guess it's okay not to hate him. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to hate me anymore. I mean, I like to think that I've only been mean to him because he started it by being awful to me, and I'm not naturally a malicious, petty person who picks on arrogant toerags like James. Even when they really do deserve to be picked on.

But just because I don't hate him anymore doesn't mean he is suddenly my favorite person. No, more like my least-favorite-person-who-I-can't-quite-hate-but-am-not-obsessed-with-because-of-this-fact. Yes, exactly. I wonder if there is some sort of abbreviation for that?

So I guess that explains his strange behavior towards me lately. I must be his LFPWICQHBANOWBOTF, too. I wonder what the catalyst was for _that._ Maybe the big storm between us that I direly predicted a few months back after his shocking apology was, actually, his shocking apology.

Maybe I should acknowledge that he, like, was the bigger person.

Maybe not.

Well, unfortunately, this piece of newly discovered information from the archeological dig that is my hassled brain only makes it harder to know how to react to this new, not quite an enemy, James. More of the same, it turns out, meaning blushing, and stammering, and the occasional biting comment when I can get my overtired brain to work.

Yes, unfortunately, extremely overtired. This whole James Potter catastrophe, along with a few other minor factors like homework and exams and school, has really thrown me off. I haven't been able to sleep well lately. It hasn't exactly been a problem with dreams, per say, or even lack thereof. It's just that when I finally get in to bed, instead of being dead the moment my head hits the pillow, I stay up tossing and turning and worrying, only to wake up the next morning looking like I've risen from the dead.

I worry too much, my mother used to tell me. I thought for a while I had outgrown the hobby, but I guess I just didn't have enough to worry and stress about back then. Now, with the added stress of this new James Potter to the rest of my life, I can barely function.

It all came to head (if it hadn't quite come to a head before with me running around the hallways like a lost duck) on the last day of November. Or, rather, I realized just how much I didn't quite hate James Potter on the last day of November. I remember it was November because after waking up and groaning, moaning, and dragging my sorry self in to the shower, I though "oh, it's the last day of November. Finally. Does autumn never end?"

The day was pretty normal. Classes were normal, I had done all my work, I almost fell asleep in Arithmancy but someone threw a wad of parchment at me and I woke up. I saw James heading towards the Great Hall, so I skipped lunch to work on an essay for Potions due in a few days. Rachel brought me a sandwich in Charms and then berated me incessantly for skipping meals. After school I buried myself in the library to study, hoping to avoid James. Obviously, plan failed, James chose today to sit at a nearby table and research _his _Potions essay, too. I had to practically race him to the shelves to get the books I wanted, a very undignified and ungainly thing. So I mainly worked on my Arithmancy.

The trouble began when James left for (presumably) supper, and I decided to stay and enjoy the James-free mental peace to work on Potions some more. Somehow I completely missed dinner, too, and Rachel didn't bring me a sandwich again. Instead, when I returned to the common room to work on Transfiguration (with which I generally depend upon her for help,) she yelled at me about bad habits and being irresponsible. Somehow, she figured out it had something to do with a pitiful attempt to distance myself from the ever present James Potter.

Unfortunately, this led to an entirely different discussion, one which I currently was not equipped to deal with. So, to soothe Rachel, I promised I would sneak to the kitchens after my patrol, which unfortunately happened tonight, with the ulterior motive of hoping that a midnight snack would help me sleep.

After patrolling, which, thank Merlin, I was able to schedule such that it was very rare I had to patrol with James, I headed down the corridor to the kitchens, tickled the pear, and asked the House Elves (who always surprised me with their unfailing cheerful attitudes) extremely politely, of course, for a little bit of leftover dinner.

It was rather pleasant, actually, sitting at a small table in front of the roaring hearth, munching on some chicken pot-pie and an assortment of vegetables. I had just made up my mind to do this more often in the evenings when I couldn't sleep, when I heard someone else enter. They said something to the House Elves in a deep baritone, and the kitchen immediately bustled with activity.

My back stiffened, my relaxed slouch of a moment ago vanishing as a brief, irrational tingle of fear sped down my spine. I was no longer alone in this comfortable, safe place I had begun to consider my own. An unfortunate mistake, I realized, as I had let down my guards.

Of course, naturally, unfortunately, who else would it be, to stumble upon me, with all my guards down, in a place I had briefly considered my sanctuary. None other than: the one, the only, the spectacular master of impossibly awful timing, James Potter.

And, unfortunately for me, normal, I'm sure, for him, he just has to saunter up to me in that annoying, arrogant, cocky, and absolutely adorable way he has, cock his head to the left and drawl:

"Why, hello Evans, what a pleasant surprise." I winced.

"James," I acknowledged. "A big surprise." There, that was fairly neutral and unassuming. He paused for a moment, straightening, looking at me with intense curiosity. I frowned—what I had done that was so strange? "Oh," I gasped aloud, turning absolutely crimson. I could feel the skin on my neck turning blotchy and pink, even my ears heated up, as I realized my horribly embarrassing mistake.

Because, unfortunately, hadn't I been thinking about him (far too much) as James? James Potter, sometimes, and sometimes just James. So, he had become…

"James?" He said, curiously, but not meanly. "I hadn't realized we were on a first name basis… Lily." He still wasn't smiling, and I couldn't see his eyes to know whether he thought it was funny or not. I, for one, was busy dying and wishing the floor would swallow me up.

"I, we, well, we're not," I managed to choke out, on the verge of sweating, my face was so red. Why, oh why did I have to blush when I was upset? I wanted to fan myself, pour cold water over my head, anything to relieve the intense, awkward, embarrassing tension.

"No, I didn't mean it like that…" He began, then trailed off as I began to make a very strange sound and choke in earnest. "Do you need a glass of water or something?" He asked, which only served to further my embarrassed combustion.

"No," I gasped. "I'm just having an attack of absolute humiliation, and hoping that if I fall down now and turn blue from lack of oxygen and choking, you might forget about what I said in the rush to the Hospital Wing." I immediately clapped a hand across my traitor mouth, sure that I was about to turn purple. James made a very strange sort of strangled noise.

When bursting in to tears was no longer a possibility, I carefully peeked at him. He, too, was beginning to turn red, but I began to suspect it was from a different cause entirely. He saw me peeking, and was no longer able to control himself. He snorted with laughter, bursting out in to deep, throaty chuckles. His laughter was infectious. I found myself smiling, nodding, on the verge of laughing myself.

"Yes," I said indulgently, still smiling. "Yes, I am stupid and foolish, and very awkward." He didn't respond, just looked at me. His eyes were sparkling—they seemed to glow, really, with an internal light. He had scrunched them up at the corner, and his nose looked kind of stretched, from the huge grin that was taking up the lower half of his face. Rosy lips were spread wide to reveal two rows of perfect, pearly white teeth.

His eyes caught mine, inspecting his face, memorizing the way he looked when he laughed, and we held like that for a moment. Him standing there, me sitting, both of us smiling in shared merriment over my incredible talent for unfortunate statements of awkwardness. But there was a barrier—too many fights, too many ignored declarations of permanent mutual hatred.

We both paused, realizing, waiting for a reaction from the other. The memories began to emerge, the fact that we were not friends, were not supposed to be talking companionably like this, did not even know each other. I felt my face closing off, the smile slowly fading. His was a mirror, the smile slowly clearing, eyes dulling.

We weren't really supposed to like each other.

"See you at the Head's Meeting tomorrow, Lily," he said, turning and leaving.

"Wait…" I called to his retreating back, a million things on the tip of my tongue. He had called me by my first name. There was no Head's meeting tomorrow. Even if there was, I would undoubtedly see him several times before then, anyways. He didn't take the food he must have come for.

I know he heard me, because he flinched, almost as if he was about to turn but thought better of it. It's probably a good thing, too, that he kept to his path. He saved me from saying the most dangerous thing of all, the thing filling my mind and overwhelming my senses, the words I was about to blurt out.

I wanted him to stay.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hey guys! Another chapter, as promised! A little shorter than the last one, but unfortunately this chapter and the next one are both going to be on the short side. Sorry! That's just sort of the way they came out. Never fear, however, soon they will lengthen again!

Ok, Yippee!! 23 reviews!! I must thank my lovely, lovely reviewers: actorgirl21, edene, Xx.siriusly.lily.xX, and three from e.jameson! You guys are amazing.

e.jameson: thank you so much, I'm flattered! I'm not exactly sure why I had James walk away, but I think it's just because their relationship is still so new and developing, he doesn't really want to push things with Lily. They were both kind of "playing it safe," and that chapter was meant to show the beginning of both of them wanting to be closer to the other, but still sort of too afraid to act on their impulses. He used the Head's Meeting of an excuse to get out of there quickly, and leave while he still could resist Lily. Yeah, that chapter was kind of unclear... I just write what comes to me so it doesn't always make sense.

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**Unfortunately**

_I wanted him to stay. _

&

Now, by no accounts am I a normal person. I am not your average Mary Jane, nor do I pretend to be. (I am also not like Mary Sue, that absolutely damn perfect girl in Ravenclaw.) Unfortunately, I have a defined character, and hand in hand with that defined, (and extremely strong,) character, comes plenty of flaws. An entire basket full of flaws.

A big flaw, that I consider my major flaw, is the fact that I struggle immensely with everything. I am a bit of a perfectionist, so I work extremely hard to do everything correctly. Yes, I was endowed with a generous amount of brains. But I work so incredibly, ridiculously hard for my good grades, that it doesn't even matter whether I am smart or not. I work, struggle, sweat it out.

I also struggle with my appearance. In my opinion I look _fine,_ as in _okay_. Sure, my face is fine, I'm not ugly or anything. No, I'm talking more about the muggle side of it—things like weight, body image, the whole bucket. With an occasionally overbearing mother appearance-wise—it's always "why don't you wear nicer clothes, Lily," and "why don't you lose a couple kilograms, sweetie," it kind of became a central thing around fifth year. I hesitate to say 'eating disorder' (as muggles call them,) but it came pretty close. Actually, it's only recently that I can really talk about that. Those were some hard times, and I still struggle a lot with my weight. This ends up to feeding in to other things I stress about, like my work, my friends, and my grades.

Recently I've started this new thing, namely, stressing out about my stress level. You should try it sometime, it's very rewarding. So basically my life is trying to manage and balance all this crapola.

Actually, I really stink at managing all of the above. I am always completely stressed absolutely out of my mind, because I have way too much on my mind. This, currently, is not helped by James Potter, who only increases my stress exponentially, taking up way more mental space then he was allotted.

I might as well get a boyfriend. I mean, this is the kind of stress I was trying to avoid by avoiding a boyfriend. This was what I was afraid of, what I didn't want, exactly what I didn't need with N.E.W.T.s right around the corner. A stupid, dumb boy filling up my head with crazy thoughts of friendship with previous archenemies that really are no longer enemies, and you find yourself wondering if they ever really were.

I mean, honestly, friendship with James Potter? The idea was so preposterous I almost laughed aloud. Actually, I did laugh aloud. Later in the day. With James. Unfortunately, this is the kind of thing that happens in my life.

How did this happen? Why did this happen? When? Something as completely preposterous and ridiculous as this would only ever happen to someone as unfortunate as me. Honestly, who else has an archenemy? What other nemesis suddenly decides to forsake being a nemesis and be nice to me, practically woo me, and follow me around?

I swear, something up there is conspiring against me.

Yes, well, back to the whole laughing with James, who isn't really my enemy, because I kind of _wanted_ to hang out with him in the kitchen…

It was pretty much an average day, except that the Christmas Holidays were impending deliciously soon. And by deliciously soon I mean the next day. So Rachel, Gloria, Kara, and Lauren, my ever lovely roommates, decided that all the five Gryffindor seventh year girls would "get everyone psyched up." Which translated as dressing in green and red clothing, wearing Santa hats that Kara had for some reason, and oddly, putting black lines under our eyes like muggle rugby players.

Yes, I have some strange friends. Lauren is also muggle born, (American to boot!) and she went to something strange and slightly frightening, apparently, called "junior high" before coming to Hogwarts. I now proceed to laboriously place all blame for this _interesting_ idea upon her shoulders.

So there we were, looking like complete and utter fops and dandies. Gloria and Kara were having a fine time, parading around the hall in their crazy clothes, wearing tall black boots and their long robes open. Personally, I just felt (and looked) completely ridiculous. I spent the majority of the day cowering, wondering how in the world I had been talked in to this.

Unfortunately, though, it was still a school day, and no matter how close the holidays were, I still had to attend classes. So there I was, sitting in Transfiguration, looking stupid. Everyone was filing in to the classroom after me, and naturally James was last. He glanced over the room, and I saw his eyes pass over me, and then jerk back as he did a double take.

I blushed. He grinned.

"I think you've got something… right here," he said, grinning even more broadly now, and gesturing beneath his eye.

"Oh, really, I hadn't noticed," I said, in an attempt at sarcasm. It failed, pretty miserably, and I smiled in a self-mocking way. "I'm supposed to be a ninja-santa," I confided to him in a hopeless tone, and his grin turned in to a bellow of laughter. Unable to help myself, equally amused at my predicament, I joined him, laughing ruefully. Eventually he stopped, cocking his head to the left in that annoying way he has.

Everything about James annoys me. Especially when he cocks his head like that, and accompanies it with his trademark, piercing, mind-reading, analytical stare. Which inexplicably sent shivers down all of my limbs, giving me gooseflesh on my arms and legs. I could even feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise a little as he stared, and my laugh gradually faded from the room. All around us was the buzz of the other student's chatter, but I couldn't hear it. We were in a curious void, James and I. James and Lily. Lily and James.

"You have a beautiful laugh," he said finally.

"What, like you've never heard it before?" I almost (dare I say it) _teased_.

"Well now, I don't know," he said, grinning again. "Certainly you've never laughed with me, like _that_ before."

"Like how?" I demanded, giggling a little. Me? Giggling? The world must be coming to an end in the near future.

"Of course I've heard your dulcet tones before," he said lightly. "Just usually a few octaves higher, and slightly tinged with rage." I blushed, and just as I was deciding that this conversation was going nowhere fast, and it needed to end, now, Sirius Black called James over.

Pay careful attention, because I will never say this again. In that brief moment, when Sirius Black saved me from an _extremely_ awkward conversation, (where I might have feasibly been shamed in to actually apologizing to James for shouting at him,) I kind of felt a teensy, tinsy bit grateful to him.

After that small digression of insanity, however, I spent the rest of Transfiguration alternating between harboring an irrational amount of rage towards Sirius Black and trying to understand why, precisely, I wanted so badly to talk to James Potter.

It seemed like I was getting kind of used to having him around, to smiling with him, laughing with him, and missing him when he wasn't there.

&

**hmm? (review, review!!) **


	9. Chapter of Talking

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry about the lateness between updates, school has been cuh-razee so far! Junior year is definitely all it's been cracked up to be. However I will not abandon my beloved fanfiction! Never! Not ever! So here it is, chapter 8 and a half, as promised. It's a half chapter because it wasn't in the original plan, and because it's a little lighter and dialogueier than normal. ENJOY!

&

**Unfortunately**

_It seemed like I was getting kind of used to having him around, to smiling with him, laughing with him, and missing him when he wasn't there_.

&

Things between James and I have really did cool down. He'll nod, or sometimes smile winningly, when he sees me in the halls, which is basically every two seconds, and sometimes I'll respond. Sometimes, though, I feel like being in a high dudgeon, at which point his nod is deemed worthy of only a sniff.

Usually I'll feel bad for that later, though, and give him a large smile in a random class. Sometimes he gulps a bit after that, and it always makes me laugh.

It's interesting, how these things go. In October I would have told anyone—and I told practically everyone—how much I hated James Potter's guts. Now, occasionally, we exchange witty banter or light barbs. There are no more nightmarish fights, and the hellish shouting and my so called "dulcet tones" are a thing of the past.

I walked with a spring in my step, and my cheeks were always rosy. December, I decided, was my favorite month. Everything gleamed with a beautiful, clean, sparkling white. Trees that looked naked in November looked like regal queens decked in shimmering platinum and diamonds. I, who had felt naked throughout the fall months, began to walk again with the bearing of a queen. My self-confidence began to return, my grades improved even more, and my hair shone with the internal light that I felt bursting to share with everyone.

There was one really awkward moment when I was walking down a deserted corridor, and was literally on the verge of bursting in to song—no, I'm completely serious, what with it being the Christmas holidays and all—when James appeared.

"Lily," he said cheerfully, for we were alone.

"Oh! Hi Jay—er, Potter," I stuttered, trying not to appear eager to see him, arms falling limply to my sides as I slunk away. It was only later that I realized I had almost repeated the awkward incident of the kitchens, and called him "James." He seemed to have a talent for catching me off guard and making me look stupid. I _wasn't_ happy to see him, it's just that I was surprised, so I kind of chirruped, and of course it sounded like I was happy. Duh.

Unfortunately, there was one bigger event, the day I really talked to James in public. The small conversations and verbal exchanges we'd shared previously paled on a comparison to this. I was in a jovial mood, sitting across the table from Dan, Rachel, and Andrew. It was early on a Sunday morning, so Dan and Andrew were visiting from Ravenclaw, and the hall was fairly deserted.

I knew it before the others saw, I occasionally have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to James. I felt him enter the hall, and knew he was aware of me, too. What surprised me was when he made a beeline for our spot at the table, stopping directly next to me. Earlier in the year, I would have choked on my toast, turned red, spat out some insult at him, and immediately vacated the seat and presently the hall. Now, instead, I gave him a small smile, and—if you can believe it—made a miniscule scooting over motion.

"Hey Evans," he began, sliding smoothly in to the seat beside me.

"Oh Lord," I groaned overdramatically (I did have appearances to keep up, after all, and he still wasn't my best friend or favorite person ever.) I was feeling in the mood for some light banter, and the others were acting pretty sleepy, so I decided to gamble. "100,000 sperm to choose from, and you were the fastest. Well, you know what they say about brawn and lack of a brain." I threw out there, looking at James from the corner of my eye to see how he would respond to the (admittedly muggle) insult.

"Wait, hold on," said James, grinning, and running a hand through his hair, which inexplicably made my palms itch. "I'm trying to imagine you with a personality." His grin lessened the sting, and I found myself easily responding, eyes twinkling, holding back my own grin.

"I'll try being nicer if you try being smarter," I quipped, balling my hands in to fists to try and stop that abhorrent itching. James just kept grinning.

"You know, whatever you were going for just then? You missed," he said flatly. I was surprised he was still in good humor, but then, so was I. And then I couldn't help myself, his cocky grin was too irresistible. I allowed my smile to stretch across my face, releasing the merriment I'd been holding back, just as wide as him, giving as good as I got.

"Well James," I replied speedily, "we're all refreshed by your unique point of view, but the fact the no one understands you does not make you an artist, master, or anything special."

"I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to worship me," James offered helpfully as I flicked my hair over my shoulders in what was really kind of a fake annoyed fashion. I had to restrain a burst of laughter on that one.

"I can see your point," I said sarcastically, secretly dying of hilarity. I never realized James could be funny if you didn't take his barbs too seriously. "But I still think you're full of it. Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental." What had I been missing all these years?

"I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public," he observed, as I got up, ready to end on a good note. Preferably a note where I won, I thought evilly.

"I'm already envisioning the ductape over your mouth!" I called cheerfully over my shoulder, slipping out of the hall.

I saw, just before the doors slammed shut, James grinning like a goon. Admittedly, I was smiling a little bit, (okay, a lot) too. I love December, I thought deliriously, dancing down the hallway. I love Christmas. I love Christmas decorations and carols and presents. The odd looks of the other students didn't even phase me, I danced to my own drummer. It was so nice not to be fighting, just to be talking, and verbally sparring in a cheerful manner. It was just so nice to be happy, and to have friends.

This was my fatal mistake. The general caption of friends, encompassing even a particular James Potter. The fact that I was calling him _James. _(The fact that I had always called him James.) But even after that, even after unwittingly joking and flirting with him, deciding he was a friend, and sharing secret smiles, I never even thought about that inexplicable happiness. I never connected it to that warm glow in my chest, the sparkle in my eyes, the new companionship with James Potter…

However, it was with relief that I hauled my carcass home for the rest of the Christmas holidays. I needed to focus on my studies, with N.E.W.T.s looming in the future, I had no time to ponder this irrational feeling of hope, and this new bubble of joy I had become. I'd better not become too attached to this new, more informal relationship with James Potter, because I'm sure it won't last the holidays.

And so I left, half-managing to convince myself that when I returned to these dusty old stones in January, everything would be as it once had.

&

**A review or fifteen would be nice!**


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Ah, hello there!!

Look! An extra long chapter, just for you guys. And 31 reviews!! Yippee!

So here's a fun chapter, (a tribute to all my reviews is at the end!) and I should have another posted soon, especially if I get lots of reviews and stuff! I'll only be able to post one more before PSATs thought (on the 18th) but after that I will have a few more up in rapid succession. After that, (approx. chapter 16) this fic will be over! cries NEVER FEAR! Here is my big secret: I will be doing a COMPANION PIECE! Called (take a huge guess) Fortunately! From James' POV. After THAT, possibly, a fic about their life after Hogwarts. Tentative title being Happily Never After.

Anyways, listen to all my dreams of grandeur. A trilogy would be wonderful...eventual. I have a few oneshots coming up, eventually, too, and I would like to try my hand at writing a great big L/J with a lot of plot that's not just romantic, as well as a monstrous Draco/ either Ginny or Hermione slightly AU non DH compliant 7th year fic eventually. We'll see! I only have 2 years left before college! Ahh! must RUSH! Well, look at me, stupid author, distracting you all from the story. Hope it's okay! It gets really, really, really, really good pretty soon. I actually just wrote chapter 11, and it's the beginning of the best parts. So, REVIEW! And it will be coming soon!

&

**Unfortunately**

_And so I left, half-managing to convince myself that when I returned to these dusty old stones in January, everything would be as it once had. _

&

What a lie to tell myself. Nothing ever changes. Nothing is ever a bad dream like you wish.

Christmas was great. Fabulous, really. I just wish I could have stopped thinking about this whole mess for a couple seconds. I feel like I had no time to myself. All of my mental space was devoted to figuring out the problem that is James. Because that's what he is, essentially. One, huge, fat, pain in the arse.

Okay, so he's not that fat. Well, his head certainly makes up for the rest of his…fabulous…body. Not that I've ever seen it. This reputedly fab bod. Just, you know, heard it by the grapevine. So they say.

Well there was this one, really awkward, unfortunate, sort of moment, but it was all the way back in fourth year, and no one really knows about it anyways… so I'm not going to go in to a lot of detail. It's really not very relevant. No, I'm serious. It was hot, but not relevant. No. It most definitely was not hot, going by the alias of James Potter. Stop distracting me.

Back to school. Always, always a joyful time. Sad fact being, I'm completely serious. Home has become almost equivalent to the fiery pits of doom right now. I've got Petunia dancing around, just graduated from some dumpy University in the middle of nowhere, all excited with her rich boyfriend. Marriage material, she keeps repeating, whilst giving me the evil eye and discussing possible wedding dates.

_Spare _me.

The man looks like a whale, eats like a whale, and works at a drill company. Seriously, a _drill_ company? You have got to be kidding me! What could she possibly see in him?

Yeah, so, this whole focus-on-males thing going on at home right now did not exactly help the whole distance-myself-mentally from James. Ah, yes, that failed plan. One among many, now, I'm afraid. How unfortunate of me to hope that I would change drastically over the holidays.

And so the saga continues. The boring, hum-drum, life of Lily. With the irresponsible, wild, unfortunate, and slightly frightening element of James Potter thrown haphazardly in to the mix. It all began again (or began to be continued, really,) shortly after winter break, say, mid-January. Unfortunately, even up until then I had plenty of contact with James—little conversations, hallway banter, even a few over-the-table ones.

I noticed that one of the only reasons I never sat with him at meals before was, precisely, because I specifically avoided him. None of my so-called friends actually had any problem with his friends. But that's another rant for another day, really.

Stupid so-called friends who are supposed to be lifelines when James tries to suck you in to his whirlpool.

I held out for a little, and then a little longer. And now I'm beginning to crack, my defenses, which were broken during the course of the fall and never really repaired, have kind of all vanished. Unfortunately, that just adds to the awkwardness sometimes. Other times, though, we can really have some conversation, and he can be—dare I say it?—kind of interesting to talk to.

My head crashed against the table with a loud _thunk_. I considered doing it again, just to relieve the boredom. Where _was_ he?

"Hey, Merlin, so sorry," he gasped breathlessly, sliding in to the seat across from me. His cheeks were glowing, his jacket soaked with snow, and snowflakes were melting in his eyebrows and eyelashes.

"Hey," I mumbled, unconsciously trying to straighten my clothes, fix my appearance somehow. James always made me feel like I was under scrutiny, and I always feel inadequate, somehow.

I really hate sitting next to James. He so… well, he's so _perfect._ And I'm so…not. I'm a painful sort of normal, a boring average, a mary-jane, if you will. Someone like James Potter just makes me feel so completely humbled and insignificant. Maybe that's why I used to dislike him so much.

"Here's my essay," he said cheerfully, passing me a large roll of parchment.

"And mine," I said, passing him an equally unwieldy roll. "Although I can't promise it's very interesting…" I mumbled.

"Ah, only Slughorn's interested in Potions stuff," he replied, grinning. "Mine's dead boring, so you're gonna have a hell of a time." I grinned back.

"Dunno why he's making us peer edit anyways. Why the change all of a sudden?"

"Crazy old bat," James shook his head, having the unfortunate effect of ruffling his silky hair, sending a wave of shivers through me. "Just glad he didn't partner me with some crazy, like Lestrange."

"Yeah, unfortunately he didn't do the same for me," I said airily, eyeing my partner with a crooked smile. James quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Is that a challenge, Miss Evans?"

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, I'm currently trying to edit the dead-boring essay of some crazy in my Potions class. No time to talk." I had to sneak a glance at him. I found him, head cocked, staring at me as if to say "who are you, and what have you done with Lily Evans?"

"I do believe, Ms. Evans, that a snowball fight might be in order. I don't know how else to settle this barb to my honor."

"Ladies don't engage in snowball fights," I said primly.

"Then it's a good thing you're not a lady," he said rakishly, eyeing me mischievously.

"Oho, you'll pay for that!"

"Fifteen minutes," he said, sweeping all of his things into a bag.

"Wait! I need to edit your essay…" I muttered at his retreating back, but it was no use.

I mean, I had to go. It's not like I could turn down a direct challenge to my ladyness. Honestly, who really wants to sit in the quiet library and edit a Potions essay while you can just about _taste _the snowflakes falling around you like candy?

Unfortunately, we lost. The epic battle was Rachel, Isabelle, Dan, and me against James, Sirius, Peter and Remus. There were many casualties on both sides, and we all fought valiantly. But it was to no avail. Those four boys were simply too skilled, and had obviously been practicing this for about seven years. My team, beaten, snow spattered and completely exhausted, lay, broken, on the snow, making snow angels.

"You win," I gasped, making a show of kneeling before them. "We surrender. Please show mercy."

"I vote to behead them all!" Pettigrew cried, grabbing a large chunk of ice. We all laughed, albeit a little nervously.

"Nah," Black said, shaking snow out of his hair. "Losers treat Victors to butterbeer next Hogsmeade!"

"Deal," said Dan, walking forward and shaking hands "But only one apiece!" James took that as a queue to perform an elegant bow and offer me his hand. Tittering like a nervous first year, I allowed him to help me from the snow. I managed to pretend that the shiver was from the cold.

With much laughter and shoving, as well as our demands for a rematch, we headed back to the castle for dinner.

After dinner, James and I adjourned once more to the library to actually finish editing our essays. My things were still where I had left them this morning, before the epic snowball battle. That's one thing I love about secluded corners in the library. No one ever goes there, you can claim turf all for yourself.

We sat, joking for a few more minutes about the snowballs, and then put our noses to the grindstone. I, however, couldn't seem to concentrate. It might have been from all the excitement of the day, or because I had too much to eat at dinner. Whatever it was, I couldn't make myself focus on the boring words. The parchment drifted in and out of focus, and finally I gave up, resting my hands on my chin and staring aimlessly around the room.

Unfortunately, my inquisitive gaze settled on one James Potter.

He really is beautiful. Not, perhaps, with the Adonis-like beauty of someone like Black, but he had his own rugged charm.

Charm… yes, charisma was definitely one of the reason he was so appealing, I mused. With his mussed hair, he always had an appealing, rakish sort of look about him, which was only enhanced by his crooked grin.

His hair really was beautiful. Black and shiny, soft and messy, it always looked effortless and windblown, setting off his features nicely. He kept it long, but not too shaggy. Just enough so that he sometimes needed to ruffle it and sweep it out of his eyes.

He had a nice nose, I decided. A straight, aquiline nose, that led nicely to big eyes and straight, black, brows. His cheekbones were reasonably high, his jaw square, his body long and lean, but no longer awkward. I remember when he was all elbows and knees, stumbling on every root that stuck out. Now he moved with an effortless grace, ease and assurance settled upon him like a mantle.

His hazel eyes, big and boldly outlined by unusually thick lashes for a boy—now, those were a sight to behold. Sparkling when he was amused, narrowing when he was angry, and darkening provocatively when he looked at certain people. His eyes might have been his best feature.

Except, of course, for his lips. My eyes slowly traveled down his face, unaware that those selfsame eyes had slid slowly from the paper, and were watching me curiously.

His lips were big, pouty, and red, with a little dent in the center that just _ached_ to be kissed. But it wasn't just the shape, color, or the size, or even the kissable little dent. It was the fact that they looked so inexplicably, unfortunately, unnecessarily _soft_. When he smiled, pouted, laughed, or even just spoke. The way they slid unresisting through his teeth whenever he bit his lip or licked his tongue over his dry mouth.

The way he looked, then, just for that brief moment, made me yearn for some type of muggle camera. He sat, curled over the essay, a lack of hair falling across his face, one of his beautiful lips caught between his teeth, brow furrowed and eyes squinting with concentration over my essay. He was so, so _much_ that it hurt. It ached. I wanted to hide under the table, to curl up in the shame. Next to James Potter I was _nothing,_ below nothing, I was ugly, stupid, clumsy…

"Do I have something on my face?" I must have jumped a foot in the air.

"What?" I almost screamed, but it came out as more or a breathless squeak.

"I said, do I have something on my face?" He asked again, eyeing me with that quizzical expression.

"I-wha-no, why?" I stammered.

"Well, I just assumed…from the way you were staring at me…" I blushed. Had I really been that obvious? I felt the heat creeping up my cheeks, unrelenting. Why, why did I have to blush now, of all times? Stupid, betraying, body.

"I just…" I trailed off. What was my excuse? I had simply wanted to stare at James Potter. There was nothing for it. He watched me for a moment more, then got up.

"Anyways, here's your essay."

"Oh, James!" I cried. "I haven't finished yours yet." I was horrified—how could I have wasted all this time? My face, if possible, became even redder.

"Doesn't matter," he said, shrugging. "Just toss it to me when you're done. We have loads of time."

"Bye," I managed to choke out to his retreating back, thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated. It was so unfortunately unfair. Some people got all the luck.

Why was I so awkward? I mentally berated myself for my complete lack of subtlety. Seriously, if I was going to do something as embarrassing as daydream about James Potter's _lips_, I might as well do it with a decent amount of secrecy, to save myself a dreadful amount of embarrassment.

Ah, why I wanted to stare at his lips anyways is a mystery to me. The way I shiver whenever he nears me, the way my throat tightens whenever he's around, my stomach clenching when he looks at me.

I left the library—red faced, disheveled, confused, unhappy. I felt inferior, as if I would never, could never live up to him. I would never be so perfect, so beautiful, so effortlessly intelligent and social and _well-liked_.

And someone like that, well, they just wouldn't ever consider someone like me.

**& **

**A/N: HUGE thanks to my lovely, adored reviewers oOo-ithil-oOo, liz2cute4u, actorgirl21, e.jameson, and Xx.siriusly.lily.xX . **

**Please REVIEW! Much love, evizyt. **


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Confession--this is not my favorite chapter ever. (hey! it's still an update!) However, it seemed necessary in the grand scheme of things. Next after this is a half chapter which was fun because it actually sneaks in a little PLOT reference (you know, that little thing this story completely lacks?) and then comes a BIG pivotal chapter. YAY!

On an even happier note: O-M-G! 45 REVIEWS!! I LOVE YOU! (individual thanks at the end, where I also beg for more reviews.)

&

**Unfortunately**

_And someone like that, well, they just wouldn't ever consider someone like me._

&

Before we knew it, the Hogsmeade weekend was upon us. We all set out as a group, enjoying the biting cold with the promise of a warm drink in the near future. We paraded through the small town, relishing the small groups of laughing students and delicious smells permeating the air.

Entry to the Three Broomsticks was a complicated maneuver, requiring both precision and skill. The eight of us managed to wedge ourselves through the door, snagging a couple spaces at a table. Then Dan and Isabelle went to grab drinks, Black and Lupin quickly following to help juggle the turbulent, foaming beakers.

Before I knew it, we were all nursing the last vestiges from the bottoms of our mugs, smiling pleasantly and feeling sated. People began to make excuses, heading to Zonko's or Honeydukes. James grabbed a few more butterbeers—on him, this round, not the snowball fight losers—and sat down next to me. The rest of our friends had cleared off.

And I realized that we were alone. Not alone really, for the room was packed, but we were alone at the table. I fidgeted—he blushed a little—I licked my lips—he coughed—I inhaled—he opened his mouth—

"That was not incredibly subtle," he said, and I was relieved to see he was grinning.

"Did you ask them to do that?" I was curious. Kill me.

"No, did you?" He replied, eyes wide and innocent, the question perfectly normal. But something seemed slightly off. I narrowed my eyes a little bit, inspecting his wide eyes.

"Hmm… James Potter…" I mused, stroking my chin for effect. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted to date me," I grinned, realizing that I was flirting, and not really caring. To my complete surprise he turned a shade of maroon to rival my own blushing abilities, and stammered something incoherent.

"I, no, eh, what makes—_ahem_," he coughed and cleared his throat, trying to dispel the awkwardness of it all: my silence, his blush, me gazing at him like a dead fish, his stutter. "Lily," he said pleadingly.

"I was just teasing," I said lightly. "No need to become so incredibly revolted at the idea of dating me," I smiled. We both knew he wasn't actually disgusted.

"_Teasing_, eh?" James asked, his face returning to normal color. "It sounded a whole lot more like _flirting_ to me, hmm?" It was my turn to blush. The normal Lily would have taken the queue, turning bright red to the tips of her ears. Unfortunately, today was not normal Lily day. It never really is.

"I'm just trying to give you the opportunity to ask me on that date you're obviously dying for," I breezily responded. "I mean, you do loooooove me," I said evilly, and spreading my arms wide, continued: "_thiiiiiiis_ much," I said. I think James might have choked.

"Are—Are you serious?" He spluttered, and I almost patted him on the back. How funny, that our roles had almost completely reversed since that unfortunate rendez-vous in the kitchens a while back. Now it was his turn to choke, with embarrassment? Shock? Disgust? Nerves? I have no idea, I'm not a teenage boy.

"Why, thinking of actually asking me? " I wanted to know. Why was I doing this? My whole body was tense, expectant, waiting for… what, exactly, I didn't know.

Questions, as they are so apt to do these days, filled my mind, flooding my brain, diverting my attention briefly from the hilarious scene in front of me of James struggling to breath and make excuses. James. Damn that boy. He was always the center of attention… even in my brain.

I dismissed one crazy idea as soon as it came. There was no way. I was getting way too worked up about it. After six years we were no longer deathly enemies, and might even come close to being friends, and here I was jumping everywhere, trying to see something like _romance_ in every glance exchanged. I was crazy.

Besides… James didn't feel _that_ way about me. I ignored the small voice in the back of my head that always seemed to have a snide comment about his actions. Obviously he had his reasons.

I mean, James was undeniably good looking… in a sort of rugged, but still cute way. Merlin knows I had already been caught staring at him and itemizing all of his features. Once was enough, I told myself firmly. I had barely been able to edit his essay after _that_ little caught-in-the-act.

James was talking now, saying something. I think he had moved on, was telling some sort of story. I wasn't really listening though. His presence was enough to set me on edge, to cause me to…

It was just… Nothing, really, but I always felt a little strange around James. Ever since that apology, ever since last fall, when he just kind of suddenly became the focal point of my life, in an unfortunate sort of way. It's like one day he just fell out of the sky, right in to my arms, right in to my life.

And for a while, he ruined absolutely everything.

And for a while, I still hated him, and detested him, and wished him away, dead, gone forever.

But the more disturbing thing was how we slowly became friends, and then better friends, and it starts to get really hard to imagine life without James.

Yet, there's still the feeling of something that's not there. Something missing from our relationship. There's still a hole, something waiting to be filled before it's complete. When I'm around him I'm different, less controlled, less aware of all my actions. All my attention is on him, all of my senses focusing on how he affects everything around me. Mentally, he disturbed me, tortured me, tempted me.

Physically, he actually pained me. James' presence was an ache, a cramp, something that wasn't right, something that needed to be fixed. And after spending time with him, when he left, it was worse! It felt like someone was tearing me, like he was taking one of my arms with him. A part of me left with him. It was like he was taking up some of me. Some of me was now attached to him. Could this be possible? Could I possibly be so affected by his presence that I was physically pained?

And he was confusing. That was the worst part. He confused me, baffled me, clouded my judgement, overran my senses, flooded my vision and my rationality and my organizational skills. In every meaning and applicative element of the word, James Potter seemed to be steadily and methodically _invading_ my tight, neat, orderly world.

What did this mean? And more importantly, what was I going to do?

&

**A/N: hmmm? review please!**

**I love you all: thesingingdodo, e.jameson, Xx.siriusly.lily.xX, actorgirl21, johnnydicaprio (thank you SO much!) and, finally, HUGE, gigantic shout-out to chocolaterox92 who read up to this point and reviewed every chapter!**


	12. Chapter 10 and a half

A/N: voila! Chapter 10 and a half. Next chapter is friggin' amazing!! It's a really good one!! I like this one. It's short, yes (cowers) but sweet. Besides, it felt like it needed to be there. Heh. Here you go! Next one up soon.

Bundle of love to my reviewers: actorgirl21, chocolaterox92, oOo-ithil-oOo, you guys are so cool!

And, lastly, some shameless self promotion! A few oneshots will be making their way to my profile page soon. Check them out, if it strikes your fancy. AND I wrote the first chapter of Fortunately, the companion piece to this, the other day. So once this is all posted, it will be next! Oh yay.

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_What did this mean? And more importantly, what was I going to do?_

**Unfortunately**

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It wasn't really like I was spying on them. I wouldn't exactly call it that. It was more of an accidental eavesdrop, if you want to get technical. I was relaxing—napping—in a squishy armchair, close to the fire. I didn't realize it had gotten quite so late, and so I was just closing my eyes for a minute before finishing the rewrite of my (peer-edited!) Potions essay. Merlin knows why Slughorn wanted it so late after the editing. Something about "quality," I believe, but he should have known everyone was going to put it off until the last minute possible, anyways. (And everyone knew that it was quantity over quality in essays anyways, I thought dozily…)

The firelight was dancing across the walls, painting the dark room in eerie colors. Inexplicably, I shivered, curling into a ball and resting my head on my knees. I felt my eyes droop shut—just for a minute, I assured myself—and the warmth seeped into me, around me, through me.

"…need to talk about tomorrow night, quickly…" someone was whispering. I yawned, stretching a little as a joint popped in my back. Where was I?

"Are we alone?" Someone else was asking.

"Only her, but she's asleep in the chair over there." Ah, right, _her_. That must be me. I wasn't supposed to be hearing this. What if it was something illegal, or some nefarious plot?

"Not like Prongs would care," a third voice snickered. Prongs? What was a Prongs? And why would he care about whether I heard or not?

"As I recall, that would be my secret to disclose." I was steadily getting more and more confused, not helped by the fact that I was still on the verge between sleep and wakefulness. The voices drifted in and out of my consciousness, and I hoped that tomorrow it would all seem like a bad dream.

"Not all of it," a fourth, new voice had replied. This one seemed familiar somehow. In fact, I was sure I had heard them all before.

"…spread around…" I was blinking, trying to clear my head. "…fact that we're Animagi…"

"Shhh! How many times…" Animagi? My mind was reeling. Surely, surely this was just an extremely strange dream. My head felt heavy and foggy, and I could feel a pressure building behind my eyes if I tried to keep them open for too long.

"Aw, c'mon Moony," this was the same voice that had snickered about a Prond, or Pond, or something. "No one's around."

"She could be listening." The suggestion was timid, but correct. I smiled inwardly. Even if they came over, it wouldn't be hard to pretend to snooze. As a matter of fact, I might just drift off…

"…out like a light, five minutes ago…"

"…wake her?"

"Nah…bite your head off…"

"Carry her up… Prongs m'boy…" After this, things became a little hazy and indistinct. (Not that they were exactly clear before, but…)

I thought I heard someone say something about padded feet and worms, but then arms were around me, and there was a strange rocking sensation. It was odd—for I was so _tired_, so incredibly tired—but while those arms were around me, I couldn't let myself fall asleep, not quite yet.

Because I know, I know it was James carrying me. How else could I have felt it, through the thick curtain of sleep and heavy eyelids, that electric pulse, shivering up my body at the points where I touched him? When his chest inflated slightly from breathing heavily as he carried me, when he jostled me slightly upon opening the doors, when he brushed a lock of hair from my face…

And then there was my bed—blissfully warm and sinfully soft, enveloping me in all of its glory. I felt sleep, too, embrace me once more, and willingly surrendered myself to the replenishing darkness.

I dreamt of James; of moonlit midnight trysts and romantic whispers, strong arms and shining hair.

&

**A/N: REVIEW PLEASE!! **


	13. Chapter of Unanswered Questions

A/N: MY FAVOURITE CHAPTER!!! YES! FINALLY!!! AHHHHH!!!!!! You will like it.  You MUST like it.  It is by far the best one yet.  AND the ending is SO GOOD!!! Ahahahahaha! I'm posting this for the reviewers, who were SO nice that they motivated me to do this really quickly.  Similar motivation will encourage me to post the next one quickly, too. 

Reviewers to whom I owe my heart: lostmoonsoldier, oldmanmah, StrawberriL2393, chocolaterox92, actorgirl21, oOo-ithil-oOo, peacegirl.  You guys have been so nice and supportive! I really appreciate all the nice reviews! I am thinking of you guys with every chapter. 

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_I dreamt of James; of moonlit midnight trysts and romantic whispers, strong arms and shining hair_.

**Unfortunately**

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I was sitting in the cushy chair—well, fidgeting, really—and he was perched on a stool opposite me. We had mutually agreed to try and get this done quickly, because both of us had better things to do than write patrol schedules and put our heads together in a stuffy room. For his part, James only occasionally stared longingly out the window, probably envisioning the next epic snowball fight sure to come.

I contented myself with staring moodily in to the flames, imagining a simpler, less complicated existence, with no work, no school, and most of all, no James Potter.

"Lily," someone said, interrupting my peaceful reverie. Honestly, people these days have no respect for a good daydream. "Lily," the voice said again, more insistently. It was quite a nice voice, I reflected idly. Not too deep as to indicate someone of huge proportions, but still very rough and masculine. It had a nice quality, like silk sliding over wood, or water over rocks. Almost musical. I liked the way it said my name, with perfect inflection, lilting, yet incredibly smooth. Someone who says my name like they really care, floated through my completely fried brain.

The voice is James Potter, something whispered.

Oh, damn.

"I-I, what?" I sat up straight, blinking and rubbing my eyes. Had I been asleep? No, just dreaming with my eyes open. That was unusual for me. Wait, why was James Potter still calling me by my first name? Had I missed something? When had that started?

"Who do you have patrolling with Rookwood on Thursdays?" He asked incuriously, his eyes searching for mine.

"Um, I, wait, let me see," I muttered, flustered, staring blankly at an equally blank schedule. I was supposed to be doing work, not daydreaming. I mentally chastised myself, promising to stop dozing and start working. It was just… Something about this evening, or the room, or, oh, I don't know, but I was just feeling sort of funny. My head was spinning, I felt dizzy, woozy, off balance—like my chair was tilting, but obviously it wasn't—and James' face was oozing in and out of focus, the only constant being his bright eyes.

He cocked his head, in that endearing, annoying, and endlessly frustrated way he has.

"Feeling alright, Lily?" He asked, and the weird thing was that his voice was laced with concern, like he actually _cared_ or something.

Weird, right? I mean, just because we no longer declared open warfare on each other at first sight… Okay, fine, I'm lying a little bit. But only a little. We're kind of, like… _good _'s still kind of odd to admit that.

I don't think anyone understands how weird this is for me, how incredibly strange, unusual and irrational the world seems right now. Four months ago I would have sworn on my affidavit that the day James Potter and I were best friends would be the day that my grandmother announced that she was an animagus fish.

Best friends? Did I really even just _think_ that? Oh, someone save my sorry skin and take me to the hospital wing. I am about to say something incredibly vulgar, out loud.

"Lily, seriously, what's going on?" Is he really still bugging me? I thought, annoyed. I am taking some time to think about him, and the ungrateful wretch has to constantly interrupt my reverie. The ungratefulness of some people.

"James," I snapped. "Can't you tell I'm having a very serious mental conversation with myself?" I asked, giving him a mock glare. James, who had jumped to attention when my voice cracked out, immediately relaxed and chuckled.

"Knut for the subject matter?" He said, folding his hands.

"Please," I sniffed. "My thoughts are worth at least a galleon."

"By all means," he spread his hands wide. "Be my guest." To my surprise, he dug in to his pocket and placed a galleon on the table between us. Before I goggled too much like a dead fish, I found myself reluctantly speaking.

"I was just musing," I said uncomfortably. "About, you know, _us…_"

"Oh," he said, eyebrows lifting past his hairline. "_We_ are an italicized item?"

"Well, no," I said, fidgeting. "But, we're friends—"

"_Good_ friends," he interjected.

"—_good_ friends," I amended huffily. "And it's just still a little… well, _awkward_ isn't really the word I'm looking for, but, you know," I said, as he nodded encouragment. Then it just kind of burst out. "Well, don't you find it strange sometimes that four months ago we hated the other's guts and now we're chumming up like old pals?"

That's one of the things I like about James. I can speak my mind around him—my awkward, confused, and cluttered mind—and he knows whether to laugh, or listen, or reply, and he never acts awkward (I'm awkward enough for both of us) or does anything weird and teenageryish. I guess it's that around James I tend to just, let down my guard, and be completely myself.

I'm still not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing… Sometimes I worry about giving too much of myself to someone, becoming too deeply emotionally involved. I mean, friends take a little bit of your heart. What if they never give it back?

"—_that_ strange," James was saying. "I mean, I don't know about you, but I never really hated you."

"Oh…erm, yeah, no…" I said awkwardly. "Wai—wha? You never hated me?"

"No," he said, smiling. "You didn't know that? I would've thought it was rather obvious."

"I'm a special case," I said, smiling along with his irresistible smile.

"I was crazy about you," he said simply, eyeing me in a measuring sort of way. "If the only way you would talk to me was to insult me, then that would have to do." I gaped. He simply grinned, not realizing the wheels spinning frantically in my already overcrowded brain, trying to process this new, complicated piece of information.

And why, why, sweet Merlin, why did I feel so disappointed that he had used the past tense?

"Besides," he added, just incase my brain wasn't already on the verge of explosion. "You're hot when you're mad."

I reeled. The world was spinning, closing in, everything was coming to an end, a complete, screeching halt. The day James Potter fancied me, would be… _like the day you become best friends_, a traitor voice whispered in my head. I squashed it. Mercilessly.

I blinked, hard. Once. Twice. Three times. I finally returned to reality to find a certain James Potter in actual hysterics, practically about to role on the floor with laughter.

"I'm so glad to be such a constant source of amusement for you," I said dryly.

"Lily," he wheezed. "You should have—seen your expression—oh, Merlin—" here he was interrupted by another gale of laughter at the memory of my (apparently excellent) impersonation of a human goldfish. "Ah, Lily," he finally managed to gasp, "this is why I love you."

Everything stopped.

James stopped laughing mid-wheeze.

I think I might have stopped breathing.

The room was absolutely silent.

I stared at him. He stared at me. I couldn't even hear my heart beat. My blood was absolutely frozen in my veins.

I couldn't even blink.

Abruptly, the world started back up again.

"No—I, no!" He cried, throwing himself forward as I unconsciously recoiled in shock. He grabbed one of my hands. "Lily, no, how—I, no, not like—how could, no—not like _that_," he managed to splutter. I couldn't respond. I couldn't even begin to think of a response.

All I could think of, all I could see, all I could feel, was James Potter's hand, enveloping my own. His large hand, brown and warm, dwarfing my own, pale, thin one. His callused fingers, rubbing ever so slightly against my skin, were sending shivers down to my stomach, causing gooseflesh to rise up on my arms.

My heart beat so loudly in my chest that I thought it was going to explode, blood pounded through my veins, rushing, a roaring filled my ears, light tingled at the edges of my vision. Black spots exploded everywhere, warmth was filling my chest again, my head was spinning blood was rushing air was filling my lungs at an alarming rate I was going to hyperventilate I was going to faint again, something strange was happening, it wasn't real, it wasn't _possible_, to feel this alive, to feel this happy, this complete, this _good_.

And all the while, we sat there, his hand holding mine, his eyes staring in to mine, my eyes held open by some invisible force, eyelashes trembling, my entire body _vibrating. _Somehow, I managed to choke out a response to his unasked question. I'm sure it was too late, I'm sure he noticed something was wrong, something was abnormal.

"Just…like friends," I gasped, and he nodded, breathed a sigh of relief, detached his hand. I almost cried, right then, with the fresh wave of emotion that broke over me, then.

The most prevalent one was _pain_. A ripping, wrenching, sense of loss, sadness, depression. An ache, a plea for help, for more, for…something. My hand felt cold, beaten, bruised. It suddenly became difficult to breathe, to see, to comprehend. Tears threatened at the edge of my eyes, and I almost started crying outright just because of these wild, irrational feelings that ran over me like wild horses.

James was smilingly, moving on, laughing about our foolishness, pointing out a funny incident outside. I sat, dazedly, listening only with half and ear. I felt out of breath, cold, unwanted.

"…and then he told me, well, if you don't want to patrol with him that badly, I suppose, I could consider it. And you wouldn't believe it, but I actually—Lily? Did you catch any of that?" I was standing, I realized. My books and quills and parchments had all fallen to the floor, a cascade of logic and rationality.

"I—I, I," I stuttered incoherently, I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't _think._ I was a radio, going haywire, and James Potter was disrupting my signal. I stood there, feeling like I had just been electrocuted.

James stood up too.

"Lily…?" He said, taking a step forward, hand outstretched, fingers extended, reaching, reaching, reaching—stopping.

For a brief, brief moment in time, we stayed like that, suspended. I was standing, hair mussed, face pink, heart in my mouth, breathing quickly, watching him.

I could feel my heart beat, pounding through my ears, as the warm blood rushed through my body, filling my brain and limbs. I felt the blood course through my shoulders, stomach, toes, felt the weird mixture of excitement and adrenaline originate in my stomach. I gasped in a breath, feeling the oxygen molecules pour through my throat and nose, down to my lungs, where they were absorbed by my aerioles, soon to become more energy. I could feel the seconds, thick and heavy, pulse through the small room. It was suddenly very hot, and I wouldn't have been surprised if sweat was breaking out all over my face—all over my body.

The tension between us was palpable, a pregnant silence enveloping our surroundings. Even the fire forgot how to crackle.

His hands were hovering, one above my shoulder, the other in the vicinity of my waist.

And for a moment, we simply stood there.

Would he?

&

**A/N: REVIEW!! **


	14. Chapter of Discovery

A/N: Ah, my faithful readers and reviewers, if any of you are still left, I apologize. I have no intention whatsoever of abandoning any stories, but life just catches up with you occasionally, and fanfiction always seems to be the first thing to go. Never fear, for I am now back at school, and the procrastination back in full swing. The really sad part is that I have the entire story typed up, and all I have to do is edit, finalize and upload, and I can't even find the time/motivation to do that sometimes. BUT NOW I DO! SO NEVER FEAR! Unfortunately is BACK! And I may begin posting Fortunately, the companion, soon too because I feel like it! HOORAY!

That said, I loved the last chapter, I like this chapter too, even if it is a little short *grins cheekily* more SOON! PROMISESWEAR!

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_And for a moment, we simply stood there._

_Would he?_

**Unfortunately**

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_Our eyes clashed. His cool, calm eyes, sparkling with some unknown mystery. _

_I knew he could see what I was thinking, feel the heat rolling off me, see the blush threatening to creep up my cheeks and the tears to creep down. _

_His eyes bored a hole in me, and I felt, rather than saw, as he took a final step closer. _

_With an almost audible—sound—his hands came to rest, one on my shoulder, the other in the curve of my waist. It was almost intimate, the way our breath mingled, his hands on me, touching me, sending jitters throughout me. _

_I could feel it as he exhaled, his warm breath in my hair, on my face. _

_I realized absently that I was shaking, trembling, tingling, vibrating, unable to relax. My head was buzzing, everything was spinning, and the only thought available was why, why does he do this to me and what to do and what was happening, and then it all collapsed, collapsed in a heap like I collapsed into his arms, against his chest, into his embrace. _

_I don't know if I was crying, or laughing, or just generally shivering, but he was stroking my hair, and rubbing my back just ever so slightly, and it felt so nice, so familiar, so perfectly right, to just stand there, enveloped by his strong, friendly arms, my head buried in his nice-smelling shirt. And then—_

"_Feel better, Lily," he said brusquely. Was that a tremor in his voice? _

_And then he was gone, and I was alone. _

&

Alone, I thought idly. The way it should be.

Then why was every cell in my body rebelling against this apparent truth, so hard that my vision was swimming, my knees were aching, and all I wanted to do was collapse in a heap and let the nausea from his absence subside.

I thought this was supposed to end when we were friends. I had thought the torment would stop, the invasion of my thoughts, my space, my privacy, my life, would just sort of fade away once things with James normalized.

I coughed weakly. There, I could vaguely see now. The hazy outline of the room was beginning to come in to focus. My breathing, on the other hand, was another arena. It hadn't exactly stabilized yet.

How completely and totally wrong I was. The more time I spent with James, the more I thought about him, dreamed about, stared at him, laughed with him, hugged him.

I swear, James Potter is seriously detrimental to my physical and mental health. He is a disturber of the peace. A disturber of my peace. A disturber of my comfortable, safe little world. One day he just barges in a turns everything upside down, and they never really turned right side up again.

My breathing was steadying, too, now. I was no longer gasping for air like a stranded fish.

I should sit myself down and give my arm a good, hard pinch. I wonder if this is really possible, if this could actually be happening to plain, boring old Lily Evans. If she could really be…

But no, I'm not even going to say it, because it's so preposterous and untrue that I won't even deign to respond to that annoying query in the back of my mind. Obviously, James has issues. Issues which somehow rub off on me and make me intensely…not uncomfortable, exactly—I guess the best word for it is _aware—_of his presence.

It made me so _mad_ in a way, to think that some one else, someone I didn't even _like_ until I randomly fell in love with him, could have this much control over my life.

I was surprised to find that a few tears had trickled down my face when I wasn't paying attention—you know, during the whole gasping for air session that followed James' abrupt departure.

I buried my face in the chair cushion in shame. This was so, _intolerably_ embarrassing.

Ah, James Potter. What a conundrum, an anagram for trouble, a puzzle. Packed in to those simple words, there was such emotion, such feeling, so much meaning. Too much meaning, too much of everything. James was too much. Why did he push my buttons like no one else?

It's funny, in an unfortunate sort of way. Concerning James, I always seem to ask the question why. It is always why—why me, why now, why him, why this? Most of all, the reoccurring question tends to be _why_ can I not evict him from his permanent residence in my head and life?

Occasionally, however, (like now,) I stop asking the question _why_, and begin to think of other question words.

After all, my relationship (yes, relationship, but not, unfortunately, like _that_) with James is far too complicated to be encompassed by the single question of why. Usually, the next unfortunate word that tends to pop in to my head is: _how_?

How could this happen?

How could I have _let_ this happen?

How could I have let myself fall, wonderfully, unfortunately, blindly, irrationally, passionately, completely and utterly head over heels for none other than the wonderful, arrogant _asshole_ of James Potter?

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**hmm? REVIEW please, even if you hate me utterly.**


	15. Chapter of Romance

A/N: I LOVE YOU! Thank you to my reviewers. This chapter (and the speed) is for you. Shortly, when I have more time, I shall also respond personally to all of your lovely, kind, awesome reviews. For now, a huuuuge thank you to actorgirl21, xx siriusly lily xx, Twin A 07, chocolaterox92, and oOo-ithil-oOo. I would never have gotten around to posting this without all of your encouragement. I have been waiting for this chapter for SO LONG. And so, the only thing left to say is:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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_How could I have let myself fall, wonderfully, unfortunately, blindly, irrationally, passionately, completely and utterly head over heels for none other than the wonderful, arrogant asshole of James Potter?_

**Unfortunately**

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I know, I _know_ he did it on purpose. There is no other plausible explanation. I know James Potter, and he meant to do it.

So, really, it is entirely his fault.

Not that it ever wasn't.

We were on patrol together. It was a Tuesday, that single, unfortunate night, when I had the pleasure of spending a glorious hour and a half with our beloved James. This particular Tuesday, was, unfortunately, slightly different.

To start, I was late. I stumbled to our meeting spot, five minutes late, ruffled, and out of breath. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, completely at ease, eyeing me with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"Sorry," I began, but he shrugged it off. I found my gaze inexplicably drawn to his shoulders, remembering how it felt to be deliciously snuggled against them, my head in the crook of his neck, his warm breath tickling my ear.

"No problem," he murmured, deep voice rumbling, and I was shocked to discover how close he was. I reflexively stepped backwards, feeling as awkward and bumbling as a first year with a crush.

We began to walk, and I hoped that it would clear my head. Already I could feel his proximity affecting me, with the familiar mixture of nerves and trembling, a slight tinge of nausea and dizziness. We walked in silence for about half an hour, occasionally chatting listlessly about inconsequential things, but my heart wasn't in it.

We slowed momentarily at the end of a corridor. It had been an uneventful patrol thus far, and we usually took a break here for a moment. And then he did it.

James turned slightly, and his arm brushed mine. I felt his shoulder linger, touching mine, for just a moment longer than normal. A jolt of energy pulsed through me at the contact, and I shivered, as he finished with an almost-caress of his knuckles against the back of my hand.

The air crackled with electric tension.

Every nerve in my body was screaming to touch him, to—

I was overcome by a wave of unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensations. My stomach clenched, and I felt a sudden flash of heat curl through me, coiling around my intestines and creating interesting sensations.

I stumbled, foot catching stone, and it was tempting to simply collapse in a heap, and curl in to a ball until all of this had blown over.

I was beginning to worry that it wasn't going to blow over so quickly, though, and I think that was what made me stand up again, trying to control my inexplicable trembling. I felt him step closer, and rest his hand on the small of my back. I almost shut my eyes, as I felt my knees buckle (again.)

And then, I think I even surprised myself.

"I'm feeling a little hot," I said lightly—which was an understatement. I was burning up. "Want to take a quick spin around the grounds?" I said this normally, barely a hint of a tremor evident in my voice, casual as can be.

"What's this?" He said teasingly, breath tickling my ear. I resisted the urge to shiver deliciously. He would be able to feel it, what with _his hand on the small of my back_, and all. "Lily Evans wants to break the rules?"

I laughed in what I sincerely, _sincerely_ hoped was a flirtatious, coquettish kind of laugh, and gave him my best cheeky grin.

"Why?" I wanted to know. "Is James Potter afraid?" I glanced down, shading my eyes with my lashes, and praying that I looked flirty and cute and not mentally retarded. It must have worked, because I felt him growl, and then pull me forward.

"Let's go," he said, and gave me a cheeky grin of his own. I barely resisted the temptation to melt in to a puddle, and followed him as he snuck out of the castle.

The air was frightfully cold, and both of us were wearing only our school clothes, it being too warm in the castle for robes during patrol. I could barely think of the air temperature, though, for most of my mental space was completely and fully occupied with the fact that I was on a midnight, moonlit, snow-filled stroll, with James Potter, my self-professed arch nemesis.

…and secret crush.

We walked for a while, admiring the crunch of our feet in the snow, and ignoring the heavy, hovering feeling between us. The snow had begun to fall again, big, fat flakes that filled the air with white.

We began to slow, unconsciously, moving closer together. I could feel the heat radiating from his body in the most delicious sense of the word. Finally, before we reached the Quidditch pitch, we stopped, as if we had reached the predetermined destination. We stood there for a moment, looking out over the perfect, snow-filled grounds, and the twinkling Forbidden Forest.

I felt myself, almost without my control, turning to face him. The words were stuck in my mouth, my heart in my throat and the now-familiar wooziness in my knees.

And then, very slowly, in the steadily cooling air, he brushed my hair from my face. His hand caressed my jaw, almost an entire shade darker than my skin. I noticed belatedly that I was almost as pale as the snow on the ground and in the air, on his eyelashes and melting on his warm lips. My heart began to pound, so loudly I was sure he must be able to hear, and my breathing quickened. I slowly blew out a puff of white, frosty hair.

His hand was like a magnet, pulling me closer towards his thin shirt. I was surprised he wasn't shivering yet. I took another step towards him, and his other arm snaked around my back, crushing me to his chest. I tingled unbearably where he was touching me, tiny pinpricks of light beginning to invade and inhibit my vision. I felt my chest begin to expand with that strange, unknown feeling, so new and unfamiliar.

I gulped more frosty air, and found myself staring up at his face, from where I was snugly wrapped in his arms. Somehow, of their own volition, my hands had reached up to fit around his neck, playing with the curls at the base. He smiled at me, his gut-wrenching, knee-melting smile, and as I woozily smiled back, I knew I was done for. My hands firmly locked around his neck now—it's a good thing he's holding me up, I thought dreamily, otherwise I'd probably fall down—and he slowly bent down. My vision began to blur, dizziness and light bursting in, as he slowly pressed his infinitely soft lips against my own.

And then everything was rushing—_rushing_—and spinning.

The whole world was moving—_moving_—and I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't move, and I couldn't see. Everything was black—sparkling black—whirling—rushing—spinning—colored lights—exploding.

All I could feel was his lips on my lips—warm—soft—delicious—and our tongues intertwined—heady, rushing scent—the delicious smell of his shirt—buzzing lights—an electric current—every nerve on fire as I pressed against him—our mouths, tongues, lips, teeth, locked—beauty—light and dark—heat—whirling—I was so alive—tingling—electricity.

And then suddenly, it stopped, and the little, dizzying lights went out, and everything was silent.

There, in the cool, soft air, pressed completely against his shirt, I could hear only our two heartbeats, completely synchronized.

I wasn't Lily, and he wasn't James; I wasn't a girl, and he wasn't a boy; we were simply two human beings, alone in a world full of the ever-present, all-consuming darkness, clinging to the other for the representation of all hope and love.

And there, in the silence slowly enveloping the snowy grounds, I felt it.

I was complete.

**&**

**squee? **


	16. Chapter 13 and a half

A/N: Um... sorry? I... love you? A lot?

This chapter. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. And then Chapter 16 (which is the end.) And an epilogue if you guys want it. So. 3 and a half more chapters and then we're cool!

ALSO!! The first chapter of Fortunately!!! is going up later today!!!!! The companion piece to this thing ! You know you want to read it..... ! James' POV. Also another oneshot called "Once Upon a Lifetime," J/L duh. So if you're interested. But definitely check out Fortunately, as I wrote it for all you awesome guys out there. Hope you like this chapter. It was fun.

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_I was complete._

**Unfortunately **

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I don't really know how to describe it.

I think the words "delirious haze" would fit quite well.

I kissed James Potter.

Perhaps "momentary lapse into insanity" would better suit it.

I kissed James Potter.

I don't really know how to describe it.

Well, it was awesome.

But you can't really think "it was awesome" suffices, exactly. For one thing, it's not nearly descriptive enough. For another, that kiss was definitely better than awesome.

Maybe fantastic? Utterly wonderful? Superb…stupendous…amazing…fabulous…wondrous…

…Unfortunate?

Yes, definitely unfortunate. Always, where he is concerned.

And since that kiss (which was last Tuesday, making it three and a half days ago,) James Potter has proceeded to rather subtly (for a boy, that is—they will really never be able to compete with women in this) claim me for his own. Not in the sense of "you my woman," sort of way. More like, holding my hand once, as we were walking down the hall. We were already sitting together most of the time anyways, so nothing is new there.

I do think it was a bit of a shock to Sirius Black, though, when James pulled me in to his lap today. We were sitting on the sofa, _working_, and he had his arm around me (which Sirius was eyeing warily) and then he just sort of pulled me in to his lap.

It was very nice. His lap is very comfortable. I would like to spend more time there in future.

One thing I would _definitely_ like to spend more time doing in future (apart from using James as my own personal couch) is _kissing_ the aforementioned sofa.

Because it was awesome.

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"James, stop, someone might walk by." We were in one of those handy alcoves that just seem to litter the halls of Hogwarts. And, although it was extremely difficult to concentrate on anything while James Potter was kissing my neck, I was trying.

Key word: _trying_. (Needless to say, I was failing.)

It was all I could do not to sigh and collapse. In fact, I think I already had sighed and collapsed, but James' arms were on either side of me, keeping me from sliding into a heap.

&

It was kind of strange. I can't really lie. I mean, I hated James for what, approximately 6 years? But then I realized that I had spent most of seventh year, so far, un-hating him.

Oh, undoubtedly I hated him (or was pretty sure that I did,) during various points of the previous years (and this one.) But surprisingly, unfortunately, ironically, it takes much less time to un-hate someone than it does to start to hate them. Probably roughly the same amount of effort, though. I don't think James knows how much mental space he takes up. (A ton.)

It was like there was a wall.

Well, there was a wall .

And then the wall began to crumble. It was slow at first, unfortunately slow (both because it enabled and prevented this momentary bliss.)

And now it's nice, having a boyfriend—for I suppose that's what we are, now—and I don't regret it. But at the same time I wasn't really looking for one, either. We do have N.E.W.T.s coming up and everything, and the last thing I need is someone (namely James) distracting me from something that will affect the rest of my life.

Which, hopefully, James will not.

At least, I think I hope he won't. High school romances are not supposed to blossom in to full-blown, happily-ever-after marriages. It will probably be someone I meet in the workplace. I nice Healer, or an interesting Auror. James is just a step along the way, a pleasant experience. He's not someone that I could spend the rest of my life with even if I wanted to.

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"Lily," he breathed, and I was back in the alcove, pressed against him in an extremely inappropriate way, ridiculously glad for the strong arms around me.

His breath was hot and tantalizing, and I resisted the urge to nibble on his ear. "James…"

I could feel him smiling against my lips. "Are we dating?"

"I don't know…do you want us to be?" The few seconds it required to pull my lips away from his to answer were agonizing. I kissed him again like a drowning person; his warm, soft, delicious lips were my lifeline, my oxygen, my drug of choice.

"Very much," he replied, and I couldn't quite suppress the bubble of irrational happiness in my chest that had no business being there.

"Seal the deal, then," I said, pouting my lips. He kissed me briefly, only to suddenly pull away. "Ja—" My query was cut off as he bent down, tackling me at the knees and tossing me over his shoulder, like I was a weightless sack of potatoes.

Squeak.

"What is going on?" I roared. Scenarios flashed through my mind: this whole thing had been a joke, James was a death eater under polyjuice, Sirius and Remus were cannibals and wanted to eat me…

Meanwhile, James was running towards the doors (with me bouncing uncomfortably on his shoulder) and then we were outside—and it was bloody cold—and then we were back at that _place_ where it had been snowing, and we had been walking, and then we had been _kissing. _

He slipped me off his shoulder, and looked me in the eyes. "Lily."

I sighed. "James, what's going on? I'm tired and cold."

"There's something I want to tell you." I raised an eyebrow. He swallowed a little. "Well, actually, there's something I want to _show_ you."

"Well, um, go on," I said. "Just so you know, though, I don't really have any deep dark secrets of my own, to, um, share."

He grinned. "I know them all anyways." I shook my head and suppressed a smile. It sort of snuck out around the corners of my mouth, anyways, though.

And then James wasn't really there anymore. Instead, there was a stag.

It started to snow again.

I blinked a few times.

Then, I did the only sensible thing to do in that situation. I got on.

It was a bit of a scramble—he was tall in real life _and _in stag form—but he tried to kneel a bit and helped as best he could. It was snowing harder now, and heavier, and I suspected it was getting quite late (frankly, it was no place for the Head Girl to be, but I'm not always a goody two-shoes and a romantic stag-ride is difficult to resist.)

&

It all came together, eventually—the conversation I only half remembered, the odd nicknames, the strange bond, the late nights, the fact that James could honestly claim he knew all my secrets—and he even took me under the invisibility cloak to the kitchens, once. I never actually saw Remus Lupin transform (and I never wanted to) but I had a stronger bond with the rest of his friends after that.

He may have told them, or they may have just figured it out (Pettigrew can be scarily perceptive about things like that,) but at some point I began to feel like they approved.

Maybe they hadn't quite _accepted_, (although it seems that James had fancied me for a while so I don't understand why not,) but at any rate they could understand.

Acceptance would come with time, I told myself, and that was my first mistake. It would come, and it would take time. I just sort of automatically assumed that James and I would have that sort of time together.

Because even though we were just seventeen, and even though he was just another boyfriend, and even though all we had done was kiss and I didn't _love _him or anything—regardless of all these factors—something told me we were going somewhere.

&

**hmm? **


	17. Chapter 14

A/N: Ohhhhhhhhh here's another biggie... I can't believe we're getting so close to the end!! ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT AFTER THIS!!! So, I worked really hard on this chapter. It is the longest one yet, and hopefully one of the best-ish although you might hate me. But never fear! Seriously, though, input please??? Love you all to bits, thank you so much for your kind reviews, glad you all liked Fortunately, I'm working on it, and this is almost done. Enjoy (or, rather... )

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_Because even though we were just seventeen, and even though he was just another boyfriend, and even though all we had done was kiss and I didn't love him or anything—regardless of all these factors—something told me we were going somewhere._

**Unfortunately**

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And then there was one of those days—one of those unfortunate days—when everything you know is abruptly flipped upside down.

It started with an unfortunately emphatic declaration on James' part during a particularly heated snog session on a squishy leather common room sofa, at a ridiculous hour of the night.

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"James," I laughed uneasily, pushing him into a sitting position. "You don't mean that. Take it back."

"Why?" He said, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown that I longed to kiss away. "It's true." He leaned forward, brushing a feather light kiss to my collarbone. "I love you," he whispered in my ear, hand beginning to travel south. I pushed his hand away, half irritably, half in fun.

"No you don't. You're just a teenage boy—saying it to get in to my pants." He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"No I'm not," he said, and I smiled a little.

"Good, because you know you don't have to," I joked, unzipping my jeans enough to give him a tantalizing view of my pink knickers. I leaned back against the sofa, pulling him down on to me again, moving his hand to the gap my zipper made in my jeans. I was surprised when he resisted the bait, sitting up.

He frowned again. "I'm serious, you know." I began to pull on my sweater; our snog session was obviously finished. I almost wanted to groan. Here comes the big talk.

"You don't have to act like this because you feel responsible or anything," I said, still unwilling to take him seriously. He pulled me closer to him on the sofa, lifting my chin so I couldn't avoid his big, beautiful eyes.

"I love you, Lily Evans," James said seriously, eyeing me in a way that dared me to argue. "I have for a long time. Longer then you know, actually."

Honestly, I had no idea what to do. What does one do in a situation like that? He kind of dropped the bomb on me, you know? I mean it wasn't Hiroshima or anything but it's kind of terrifying to be told by your boyfriend that he's deeply, madly, and desperately in love with you. (And that he will stalk you to the ends of the earth in order to make you realize that you feel the same way.)

Okay, so he didn't say that last part, but he implied it.

I was shocked… and angry? Yes, angry. I was dating him to have fun, he was supposed to be a source of levity and enjoyment, not drama and more pressure.

Unfortunately, some of this anger sort of bubbled to the surface. In a snappish, angry, frustrated sort of way. I had been dreading a confrontation like this since we had started dating. Yes, I liked James. Yes, I like _liked_ James.

But… did I _love_ him?

"James, we're seventeen," I said scornfully. "Stop looking at me like a love-struck puppy."

"What is about you? Why can't you simply accept this?" He asked, almost desperately, and I responded a little too forcefully.

"James, I could simply sit here and complacently accept your irrational declaration, but that's not who I am. That's not the girl you claim to 'love.'" I gulped and choked a little on that word. "I don't want to use you, I don't want to be in a relationship where I constantly feel pressured to feel more for you than I do."

He shook his head, eyeing me in a patronizing way that was extremely annoying. "Lily…Lily… you don't understand. I'm not trying to pressure you in to anything, I just want you to know how great you are." I blushed, trying to look away again, but his hand still held my chin.

For a moment, there was silence. Blissful silence, in which I could simply enjoy James' company, his presence, the way his cool fingers felt on my chin. And then…

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"James!" I snapped, wrenching my chin from his grasp and getting off the couch. "You're moving way too quickly! You're supposed to be fun, amusing, enjoyable! This relationship is not serious! Stop planning our wedding. WE should not have a _future_."

_Should_ not, my brain noted dully. Not _could_.

He was angry now. "Since when did what we're _supposed_ to do matter to you, Lily? Oh, sorry, I forgot. I'm talking to little Miss Head Girl, the teacher's pet. Can't break the rules, can't step outside the box, or deviate from the line, oh no." He was falling in to his safety net, rapidly regressing to the common path we had traversed together many times. How often had he taunted me about being a goody-two-shoes, and I had responded with a scathing comment about his arrogance?

"I really don't want to hear this right now." I got up, crossing the room.

"What?" His voice was taunting. "Afraid? Can't face me, can't face the truth? Little Miss Head Girl is a _liar_." He stood up from the sofa, challenging me.

"Well now that you've enlightened me, why don't I just make a sappy, cliché declaration of my undying affection to satisfy your male pride!" I shouted, forgetting that it was late and that we were probably waking up the entire house. "Would you like a poem and a serenade? Or I could just lie here like a mush-brained sap head and comply with every stupid, arrogant, thing you say! Better yet, why don't I just lose my personality completely! I don't really know why you like me at all, seeing as you just want some puppet to stroke your precious ego and tell you how wonderful you are all the time. Just forget I ever said anything. Call me Pansy, or some other demeaning flower name that implies stupidity, and help me die my hair blonde. Let's just itemize Lily and make her in to the perfect Potter bimbo so that he can push her around all the time and she'll just worship the ground he walks on!"

I took a deep breath. James, who was used to my rants, immediately leapt in.

"So this is what you think it's about? My male _ego_? In case you couldn't see through your stubborn blockheadedness, I was actually declaring my love for _your _benefit."

"_My_ benefit? _You_ did it for your own damn self, James Potter. _I _certainly didn't want it!"

He flushed. "Most girls at this school would kill to be told that I loved them."

"Then go tell them, instead of me!" I shrieked, enraged, past the point of caring. I whipped around, fuming, ready to stomp out of the common room and never look at him again. But I couldn't resist throwing a final barb over my shoulder. "I told you I didn't want to talk about this. Look what you've done. I was enjoying spending time with you, James, I really was. I like you. Now I don't want to speak to you."

"What _I've_ done? If you weren't so stubborn—"

"Stop accusing me! You started this entire thing with your crazy, irrational desire to take our relationship to some nonexistent 'next level.'

"I—" he began, and then stopped. Abruptly, he became deadly calm. "Fine. You don't want to talk to me, fine. Then tell me. Tell me you don't love me. Tell me you never want to see me again. Tell it to my face." I swallowed. We both knew I couldn't, couldn't quite bring myself to do it. We both knew it wasn't quite true.

"Just because I don't love you, doesn't mean I never want to see you again," I began, backpedaling. My anger was beginning to trickle away, replaced with an icy tendril of fear.

"I can't keep torturing myself."

"Stop being so overdramatic! It doesn't have to be black and white. We can be together and not be madly in love. This is what makes me so angry, James. You can be so over the top about something like this. You don't understand, we're _teenagers_. We're not supposed to be in love, to be torturing ourselves about the maidens who have captured our hearts…or anything like that. For that matter, we're not really even supposed to be having sex," I added as an afterthought.

"But don't you _see_?" He cried, striding towards me.

"You want sex?"

"NO!" He bellowed, and I took a step back.

"No, as in I'm ugly?" I inquired meekly, teasing him a little bit. He ran a hand through his hair, looking absolutely frazzled, and grabbed my hand with his free one.

"Merlin woman, you'll be the death of me! I love you so much, I wish you could just understand. Even if you don't return my love, Lily—don't look at me like that—"

I pulled my hand out of his. "Stop."

"Lily, I love you, but if this is your attitude, I can't keep doing this. You've been the only thing that keeps me waking up in the morning for almost as a long as I can remember. I know you think it's just a stupid crush, and I know you thought that I hated you, but Lily, the thing is, it's not like that. It was never like that. And it definitely sounds cheesy and it probably _is_ cheesy but you have to believe that, yes, sometimes, perfection can occur. And I know, I know know _know, _when I look you in the eyes, and I feel the way my heart constricts when you laugh, that you are the only one for me. You will always be the only one for me, and if you can't ever feel the same, I don't know what I'll do. Because, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness, health, death, and whatever else life throws our way, I, James Potter, will love you, Lily Evans. I can't help myself Lily, it's crazy, it's an attraction that's defied all odds. I can't help but love you blindly and passionately, because you're the most perfect, angelic, sacred, beautiful, funny, imaginative, creative, and unique sentient being that ever walked the earth, and we are blessed because of it. And, if you leave, right now…" But he trailed off, maybe because he saw the look in my eyes.

"Stop, James, stop it right now," I whispered, unaware of the tears beginning. "Just stop. It's time to leave me alone, now." I couldn't hear another word, I would break, I would ruin my life, in one stupid moment when I was young, it would all go down the drain…

"Lily!" He cried, and there was something desperate in his voice, something that scared me more than if he had raged and shouted. "When? What are you waiting for? What will it take for you to see? I love you, and yes," he said firmly, when I winced at the words, looked away, unwilling to face what I couldn't bear to think about. "I love you!" He shouted. "I do, I really do. _I love you_!"

"James…" _I love you too_, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. They were stuck in my throat. After all this time, did I really still believe they were a lie? But I knew it wasn't real… I was seventeen, and I was very alone, and I was very afraid. So instead, something else popped out, another variant on the cruel words of before. "I really can't deal with this right now," I gasped. "You know I didn't want a boyfriend in the first place, what with N.E.W.T.s coming up and stuff, and THIS was exactly what I was talking about!" I began to shout, falling back on the mechanism that had always helped me deal with the influx of emotions that I felt around him.

"LILY!" He cried again, still desperate, refusing to rise to my childish bait. "You're more important to me than any N.E.W.T! Because don't you understand? You silly girl, don't you see? I want to spend the rest of my life with you! I LOVE YOU! That's what love is," he finished, more quietly, and tried to take my hands.

"James," I said softly, eyes belying the fear I was trying desperately to hide. "We're seventeen. We can't get married, we can't have kids… I want a career, money, a flat in the city!"

"I can't wait for you forever," he said sadly, his dark hazel eyes that I loved so much looking deeply in to my green ones. "If not now," he asked, "then when?"

"Perhaps, another day," I said awkwardly. "Or, perhaps…never." It was almost picturesque, the way his shoulders bowed in defeat, his back arching and his chin slumping. His eyes darkened with pain, and a slight tinge of anger (that was the gold flecks, within the green and brown,) as he looked up at me.

"Not another day, Lily," he said, enunciating each word. "There is no other day but today. Today is the day. Today is your moment. Take it, or leave it."

I began to cry in earnest. "I leave it." And with that, he stood up, walking towards the door. I saw him pause in the doorway, waiting for my shout of apology, which I was sure would come any moment.

But for some reason, my lips stayed glued together. I watched as his back stiffened, and he slowly walked out of the room. When he was gone, I collapsed, trying to control my tears. I hated hurting people, I really did. I hated lying and pretending and faking.

It was too soon, too much, with too little time, I was telling myself. This is what I want, right here.

I really have it all, I thought wryly, as I cried brokenly, a complete hypocrite of everything I'd every said about feminism. I have everything I've ever dreamed of.

_So why are you so unhappy_? My brain screamed, and the only answer was another bout of sobbing.

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**A/N: HMMMM!?!?!?!?!?**


	18. Chapter 15

A/N: Second to last chapter! I can't believe we're almost done... THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR ALL THE REVIEWS!! I got a ton, I can't believe it!

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_So why are you so unhappy? My brain screamed, and the only answer was another bout of sobbing._

**Unfortunately**

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How long?

I don't know.

Did I sleep? In a way. I lay down, closed my eyes, and breathed rhythmically. But did I _rest_?

How could I? How could I rest when I was forcing myself every day to cram every ounce of knowledge possible in to my brain, but all the time knowing that I was only really thinking of James, dreaming of James, wishing for James, wondering about James, and hating myself for it all.

I was acting like a sorry, love-sick fool. The type of girl I had always hated and scoffed at—the one that misses her boyfriend, professes love after a few weeks and mopes when it's over.

And somehow, I no longer cared at all.

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"James." I hadn't said his name in two weeks. The word felt strange on my tongue.

"James." How many times had I sighed that name, cursed his birth, breathed it like a promise, a sultry whisper, an angry shout?

"James." How could the word, so smooth, so simple, roll off my tongue like the sweetest of honey?

WHY? Why me, why now, why _this_? And how? I was supposed to be rational, logical, controlled, intelligent. Not some crazy-ass boy crazy who marries her highschool sweetheart. That's what James wants from me. That's what he wants me to be. Someone I'm not.

I'm not that person. I can't do that.

But somehow that felt like an excuse. All my reasons for "no" felt like excuses.

Because, somehow, maybe I didn't really feel like saying "no" anymore. Maybe, I felt like saying yes.

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Evolution of anything—a species, a mind, an infatuation—is a series of small events that eventually build to create a catastrophic one.

Unfortunately for most, you hardly ever realize it, until it's too late to do anything about it—you've already evolved, and you can't go back and change the course of history...

What happens when you fall, so slowly and so gradually that you barely even realize that the path is beginning to decline? When you trip, on your way down, and it just _happens_ that he sees you, and smiles just _so_, and then you're _gone,_ and you're _falling,_ and you never even realized that the path had started going downhill.

And then it's over, and you've reached the bottom, for better (or very possibly and realistically for worse,) but there's no going back now because the path doesn't go uphill just because you want it to—and do you really? Do you really, truly, want this strange and unfamiliar yet somehow oddly welcome, feeling in your chest that makes it tight and loose at the same time, and you can't breathe yet you feel light-headed and floating, filled to bursting with oxygen; do you really want it to go away? Because isn't this what makes you human after all, these emotions and feelings that define you and describe you and cause you to realize how _lucky_ you are that you have these, and you can feel at all.

But then when it's gone, and it only leaves pain when it's gone and it always leaves, in the end, then when it's gone did you really want it all along?

And the answer is yes; yes yes yes yes,_ yes_.

Because it was _love_, and it was _real_, and hurt so _much_ but felt _so beautiful_ that the pain pales in comparison to the one thing you never wanted to feel, but never wanted to go away.

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Today was the day. And so I was running, running to find him (I knew where he was) running to tell him, running to do something, to find something, to _become_ something. For I was changing, I was changing and I knew it, I could feel it, and there was nothing I could do to stop the trickle, which I knew would build to a flood.

Today was the day, I thought masochistically, barely hearing the rhythmic clack of my black pumps against the stone corridor, or my ragged breathing. My lungs were burning and I was beginning to choke and gasp for air, my legs screaming for respite. But I could feel none of it. All of my thoughts, my entire being, were concentrated upon that single sentence, that single phrase, which had come to mean entirely too much, the significance of which, even now, dazed and confused me.

Today was the day.

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**hmmm? **


	19. Chapter The End

A/N: Can you believe it?? The final chapter??? WE'RE HERE! I hope you like it. I already had this written when I started, sort of basically almost. I wrote the kiss scene and then this. Eh? Also I have almost 100 reviews. That is SUPER-COOL!!

So, thank you so, so much for sticking with me throughout this whole story! I can't believe it. I will begin work on Fortunately, and hopefully will be better about updating that I was with this. I'm aiming for once or twice a week.

LOVE YOU GUYS! And, that's all for now, folks. -Bugs Bunny.

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_Today was the day. _

**Unfortunately : THE END**

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I had no idea where I was going, no idea what I was doing, and no plan. I only knew, somehow, internally, that this had to be done, that I had to do something, today, before it was too late. Exams, graduation, holidays, their meaning had ceased, paled in comparison to today. The value of today. Today was the day. I was about to change, I knew it. This was it, the climax I had direly predicted all those months ago.

My relationship with James was a tangible thing, the air separating him from me was heavy, like I had to part it with my hands, or cut it with a knife.

Although I didn't know what I was doing, I knew exactly what it was going to mean. I was ready. I was ready to change, ready for the pain to end, ready for James, for his kisses and his love and his warm, soft voice that wrapped around me like a caress.

I was ready to give myself to James, wholly and completely: unfortunate, raggedly dressed, rumpled hair, and out of breath. I was running blindly through the castle, over the grounds, towards the one place I knew he would be, needing to see him, to find him. I was ready.

"James!" I called, but my voice was just a croak, a whisper, rasping desperately against my burning throat. All that running—why, oh _why_ could I not have tried harder to keep in some semblance of shape—and I was beat. Ready to collapse, here, on the quidditch pitch, during the middle of the game that I had just run into.

Wait, what, _the game that I had just run into? _

I was standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, looking at the tiny figures whizzing around. The final match, I thought dully. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The entire stadium was full of students. Practically all the students in Hogwarts. My eyes started to film over with the tears I was so prone to lately. It was too late, now. I had lost him. We had exams and we were leaving. The window of opportunity to speak to him was closing.

The words echoed in my mind.

When would I find him again? Would he ever look at me again?

Speak to me again?

Laugh with me again?

It was strange, strange that no one had noticed a girl standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, her face red and sweaty, her hair disheveled, clothed in—oh dear merlin. A single player had dropped down from the sky, plummeting, whirling, chasing…something?

He alighted gracefully right in front of me. His hair was mussed from the wind, just the way I had always loved it. His face was whipped pink, hazel eyes sparkling. He was just exactly the James that I had always known, and now, loved. My heart ached, my lips trembled, I was bursting, desperately trying to convey my emotions—these intense _feelings_, the like of which I've never felt before. My whole body was shaking, every hair standing slightly on end. An current pulsated between us, and the air crackled with intensity. I was sure I could feel his heart beating, hammering, in time with mine, his breathing elevated with my nearness. It was just as it had been, all those months ago, when we had stood outside in the frozen air, and his lips had softly—_softly_—brushed against mine.

"I, I was so stupid, before," I said slowly, brokenly, trying to convey my intense regret in those simple words. _Unnecessarily cruel _echoed between us.

"I know," he said, but he didn't wait for an apology. His hazel eyes didn't soften with love and sympathy towards my pain. They were hardened, glazed over, his voice contained a cool edge. And I knew, in that moment, that it was my fault.

I had hurt him too much to repair it so simply. What he wanted from me was not something that I was ready to give. Was I? I was ready to change, I was changing, but was he asking too much?

"I guess it's goodbye, then," he whispered, slowly, sadly, achingly. He jumped lightly back on his broom, and began to fly back towards the game, which had paused momentarily in his absence. I watched him go, hair and robe waving in the brutal wind, a beacon of hope, light, and love.

Finally, after all the moping, the crying, all the years of being so completely _alone_, a dam inside me broke completely; the trickle becoming a roaring flood. I suddenly realized that almost all my energy was devoted to keeping me from falling to my knees. I couldn't do this. I couldn't do it. There was no way.

This was not me.

I was being pulled three ways, in physical pain.

I would not change. I could not change. Would not, could not, would not, could not, wouldnotcouldnot. I was Lily Evans.

Lily Evans. I changed for no one, bent for no person, but was my own person and being, owned or ruled by nothing, following the beat of my own drummer.

My stomach churned and roiled and I felt nauseous, dizzy, dehydrated, crazed. A vein in my head pulsated, and I saw black. Spots exploded in my vision, colors, sparkles, bright and painful. My brain was going to explode. I was going to die, I thought, and I wobbled and nearly fell.

Indecision clouded my eyesight, turmoil my vision and perspective.

And then, it was gone.

All the pressure, all the pain, all the intensity, the nausea, everything.

It was poured in to one single effort, one last attempt.

_I was changing_, I realized blearily, (against all the odds,) but those were not the right words. Something more like:

I _had _changed.

Change. _Changed_. Had I allowed it? That, which I had always strived so desperately against? For hadn't that been what I was fighting, fighting desperately, all these years, these long months: the refusal, the denial, the yelling, the crying, the fighting. I was a creature of habit. Had I really only been refusing to change?

_Love._ Was it really my love that I had been fighting? No, I had accepted that fact, long ago.

_I can change, _I realized. And so, I did.

"JAMES!" I bellowed, my diaphragm contracting with the effort, lungs wheezing. "STOP!" I saw him pause, and then slowly—_oh, so slowly_—turn, and fly back to me.

"Why?" He called, his voice faint, he was still far away. I gathered myself for one last breath, my body giving me no more room to second guess, overthink, decide.

"BECAUSE—YOU ARROGANT ASS—I LOVE YOU!" I screamed.

Unfortunately.


End file.
